


A Mighty Flame Followeth A Tiny Spark

by elf_on_the_shelf, fenrislorsrai



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, And Heads, Angel true form, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aziraphale Is in Charge of the Braincell, Aziraphale loves Crowley, BAMF Aziraphale, Badly, Behind the Scenes Death, Behind the Scenes Torture, Blood and Gore - mostly on the walls in the background, Crowley loves Aziraphale, Dante’s Inferno, Eric plays Virgil’s Part, First Kiss, Fluff in the Later Chapters, Getting Together, Heavy Angst, How Many Heads Is Too Many Heads Again?, I promise, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mutual Pining, Orpheus and Eurydice Myth Because Why Not, Probably Any Number Higher Than One, Psychological Torture, She/Her Pronouns for Crowley in Some of the Flashbacks, Temporary Discorporation, Too many eyes, but it does get better, historical flashbacks, the nine circles of hell, whump Crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:02:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 45,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25166653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elf_on_the_shelf/pseuds/elf_on_the_shelf, https://archiveofourown.org/users/fenrislorsrai/pseuds/fenrislorsrai
Summary: The world fails to end, and an angel and a demon walk away unscathed - much to the chagrin of their respective head offices.  Their former sides are angry, but not without ideas. One of them, in any case.Hell comes back for Crowley, kidnaps him and tosses him into the deepest, darkest pit.  Aziraphale goes after him, like he always will.  Nothing will keep them from their own side anymore, not even having to make a deal with Lucifer himself.What follows is a journey though the nine circles of hell, but even more so a journey through the bonds we form, the reasons we choose the people we choose, and the power of the love we have for those we hold dear.Written for the Good Omens MiniBang 2020.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 174
Kudos: 162
Collections: Good Omens Mini Bang, Tip Top Stories





	1. Earth

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is super loosely based on Dante's Inferno, so consider yourself warned about the nature of its content and the temptations mentioned.
> 
> Infinite thanks to my amazing beta, [HolRose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolRose/pseuds/HolRose)! I really couldn't have finished this without you! Your advice and historical suggestions are what keeps this fic together! So, again, thank you ever so much, you are an absolute wonder!
> 
> Many many kudos to my artist, [fenrislorsrai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fenrislorsrai/pseuds/fenrislorsrai), I am absolutely in love with her take on Hell and let me tell you there are going to be opossums :)). And lots of other amazing stuff! 
> 
> I'd also like to thank [MovesLikeBucky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MovesLikeBucky/pseuds/MovesLikeBucky) for the glorious summary without which I couldn't have been able to post this baby and all of the people on the DIWS server that have put up with me and all of my snippets in the last couple of weeks.
> 
> I really hope you enjoy this mess of a fic and - I think I should emphasize this as much as possible - this _does_ have a happy ending, eventually.
> 
> I will update this every Saturday, so stay tuned! :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: angel true form, Aziraphale being a bit of a bastard towards Crowley, implied violence further down the road

_God in his mercy such created me_

_That misery of yours attains me not,_

_Nor any flame assails me of this burning_

****

Eric had never considered himself to be a very lucky demon, what with the continuous attempts at his life and being Hell’s number one go-to demon when anyone wanted to relieve stress by doing some heavy maiming. So most of the time he just put up with it and soldiered on. But even he had to admit that this – all of this - was a bit much. Demons didn’t put much faith in the Almighty, not if they could help it, but Eric might have spluttered a long tirade of angry questions about the state of the Universe in general and of his eternal damned soul in particular, demanding why, out of all of creation She seemed to have a beef with him in particular. He might have pointed out that it was just a little bit unfair. Might have even commented that there surely were other demons who did far worse things and wouldn’t She try to give those demons a run for their money, _please and thank you_.

Of course, Eric could do all of that if his mind wasn’t so completely and utterly taken by surprise that it booked a tropical vacation and left him with the apt, but not particularly intelligent reaction of:

‘Oh, shit!’

And even if the intelligence levels were rather on the low side, the aptness of it was incontestable as here he was, minding his own business, just thinking of popping Top-side for a quick temptation when he was met with an angel. An actual angel on Hell’s escalator. Not only that, even if that was bad enough as it was – _good enough_? He never knew the particular phrasing these days. 

This particular angel was in full angel form, lighting up the entire lobby the way it had never been lit up before and making Eric squint.

He was also carrying a…a...a...flaming sword. Eric was screwed, he realised as he gulped and muttered another _‘Oh, shit!’_ for good measure.

It might help the reader to better understand this string of events if we went back a couple of hours.

***

Aziraphale was pacing relentlessly. _He had gone and done it this time, hadn’t he?_ He had pushed Crowley away so many times that the demon had just given up. _This had to be it_ , otherwise he couldn’t imagine why Crowley had stood him up on their last two dinner dates and was refusing to pick up his phone.

He had tried saying it many times ever since the now averted Apocalypse, he really had, but each and every time the words seemed to fail him. He didn’t even know why. He loved Crowley. He knew he did. Didn’t even bother denying it to himself anymore. So why did it terrify him so to utter those three little words? Why did it render him completely tongue-tied and in such a frenzy he feared he would discorporate each and every time?

There had been the evening spent at the Ritz, of course. Crowley had smiled at him, so happy and open like he had rarely seen his natural born enemy turned friend ever do in their long years spent on Earth. He wanted to blurt it out then. He didn’t.

Then there had been the wonderful picnic in the park that Crowley had arranged for them completely out of the blue. _Well, not quite_ . It was Aziraphale himself who had mentioned it all of those years ago and the significance of Crowley’s gesture was not lost on him. _We can do this now, we don’t have sides anymore. We have our own side._ His heart hurt in his chest thinking back to that perfect afternoon spent in the sun drinking expensive champagne and nibbling on Aziraphale’s favourite pastries. He also wanted to say it then. Reach out and take a hold of Crowley’s hand that was mere inches away from his own and kiss his knuckles while waxing poetic about his complete adoration. He didn’t.

There was of course that time Crowley surprised him with opera tickets for La Traviata that he knew Aziraphale had wanted to see for some time. He even dressed up all proper and opened the car door for him like a perfect gentleman. Not to mention all of the other times they went to see Shakespeare. _Even Hamlet_ , although Crowley hated that play with a vengeance. But they still went, at Crowley’s behest. Because Aziraphale wanted to see it. He fought back a sob. He wanted to say it time and time again. He still didn’t.

He knew Crowley would never say it first. Not after everything. He would take small steps. Invite him over on dates and give the angel the option to bail out if he wanted. _Chicken out, more like_.

But, the last time they met, it had been particularly difficult to abstain from saying it. _Not that he needed to do that, why did he keep doing that? To himself? To Crowley? To the both of them, really?_ It had been so difficult in fact that he had pushed the demon away, yet again.

They had been dining at an amazing new French bistro that Crowley had discovered and had promptly decided that the angel should _“absolutely try it, it’s decadent to a fault”_. There had been escargots and charcuterie and so many cheeses he frankly lost count of. And then Crowley ordered all of the crepes on the menu and watched Aziraphale sample them all, chin in hand with that ever so fond smile on his face. And there had been wine. Ungodly amounts of it. Which was probably why Crowley had felt just a little braver than usual as they neared the bookshop, so he propped himself on one of the window sills and with a warm and slightly suggestive smile had said:

_‘Come on, angel. Invite me in. You know you want to. We could…open a bottle of that Chateauneuf du Pape that you continuously brag about.’_

His tone of voice clearly suggested that he had something more on his mind than drinking Aziraphale’s expensive wines and that made Aziraphale still completely.

He looked at Crowley with his honest smile and auburn curls and hopeful expression and realised that if he was going to invite the demon in he would be unable to resist saying those words to him. _Heaven, he would probably end up kissing him as soon as they went through the door._

_‘I don’t think that’s appropriate right now. You’re clearly drunk and I would like to enjoy a quiet night in with one of my books.’_

Crowley’s easy smile was gone in an instant, replaced by such a hurt expression that one might think Aziraphale had actually slapped him.

 _‘Mmmright…yeah…okay…forget I asked,’_ he said in quick succession as he made his way to the Bentley parked on the kerb.

 _‘Crowley!’_ Aziraphale called after him but the demon was trying his hardest not to look at him.

 _‘You do you, angel,’_ the demon said for his benefit while Aziraphale could swear he heard a _‘Always have, anyway,’_ muttered shortly after.

_‘Crowley, please!’_

_‘See you on Saturday. The quaint Italian joint. Don’t bother calling, I think I’m going to take a nap.’_

_‘Crowley, would you please listen -’_

His plea was cut short by the Bentley speeding past him while Crowley still kept his eyes straight ahead and refused to acknowledge the angel.

Aziraphale stayed put for a while after that, eyes still fixed on the road long after the Bentley had vanished from sight.

_He had ruined everything this time around, hadn’t he?_

_Or maybe not._ Crowley did say that they were still on for Saturday so maybe there was hope yet. He would say it then. _He had to_ . Or better yet, he would write it all down in case he chickened out again. He had always had a penchant for the written word so he could do that easily. It didn’t scare him so much to put it in writing. And he had two whole days to come up with a perfect letter till Saturday and perfect it would be. He could quote poetry at him. He could give all of his feelings proper justice. _Saturday it was_.

But then, the day in question came and went, and Aziraphale dined alone, the exquisite taste of the pasta puttanesca lost on him. He didn’t even stay for dessert. And, as he made his way back to the bookshop, letter safely tucked in his coat pocket, he felt his eyes sting a bit.

He really shouldn’t feel hurt. _He deserved it_. Each and every minute of it. This was how rejection felt like. This was how he had treated Crowley for centuries. But he did feel hurt. The fact that Crowley didn’t even pick up his phone wasn’t helping.

He locked the door and pulled down the blinds in order to settle in for the night and he checked his calendar. They had another dinner date three days from now. Maybe Crowley had just overslept. He tended to do that when he was sulking. But maybe he’d get over his sulk and meet him for macaroons like they had said they would only last week.

He didn’t. Aziraphale waited for an hour. Then paid double the amount and left the small café, the macaroons on his plate left untouched.

He gave it another day and then called again. No answer.

Well, the least he could do was make sure that the letter was delivered safely. And if Crowley never wanted to speak to him again then so be it. But he owed the demon that much after all of those years when he pulled back and made Crowley feel rejected, unwanted and alone.

If Crowley was still sleeping then he wouldn’t even notice him there.

He’d leave the letter on the small console table in his hallway and go away.

_He could at least do that._

***

Aziraphale knocked a couple of times, making sure to do it loud enough to be heard if Crowley was just lounging about but not loud enough to wake him from his slumber, if that was the case. No answer.

He opened the door to the Mayfair flat as cautiously as he could.

He had thought to bring over a bottle of Crowley’s favourite brandy. _Not for them to share, obviously_ , since he had no intention of staying. _But it was the right thing to do when you visited someone’s home, was it not?_ The fact that he had never been invited to said home on this particular occasion in the first place was just a minor detail by this point.

He closed the door just as gently behind him and made his way towards the table in the middle of the room where he planned to leave the letter and the bottle and be gone as soon as possible.

It was only then that something caught his eye and, from this particular point in the hallway, he could see the rest of the house. He turned his head to inspect what had caught his attention and gasped.

His grip on the bottle loosened and it fell to the floor, shattering into a million pieces.

Aziraphale couldn’t even be bothered by the fact that his trousers were stained up to the knees and his brogues were completely ruined.

_Oh no, this couldn’t be happening. Not now. Oh, please, God, not now._

***

Aziraphale didn’t even care how many people he scarred for life as he ventured down the streets of London in almost true form in a daze. There would be tons of memory-wiping going on later, but, for now, he only had one goal in mind and spared little thought about anything else.

He had seen the complete chaos that Crowley’s flat had been and reached the only possible conclusion.

 _Heaven had come for him._ He could already feel his wings start to unfurl on another plane of existence.

There were obvious signs of a fight. The desk was tipped over, its rich marble top broken to pieces. The TV was ripped clean off the wall. The statues were sitting in various piles of rubble and the plant room looked like someone who was very into deforestation had gotten to achieve their wildest dreams.

Aziraphale had fallen down to his knees, not caring about either the state of his trousers or his knees amidst the shards.

_It had to be Heaven, didn’t it?_

He put his face in his hands and fought back a sob. Mostly because his unbearable torment was having quite a serious struggle with the insane amounts of anger that was threatening to boil over the top and drown everything else.

It was then that he sensed it for the first time. A foul, pervasive smell. It was everywhere. And it was certainly not very Heavenly.

He raised his eyes and saw another proof of further destruction.

Crowley’s sunglasses, rims mangled and lenses broken. Someone had done this on purpose. Someone had taken a great deal of pleasure out of destroying something so very…Crowley.

Aziraphale remembered snippets of his conversations with the demon along the ages and his time spent in Hell and knew exactly who that someone was.

He had an epiphany about both the smell and the sunglasses.

And then his anger flared.

A lot of people wandering on the streets of Mayfair that day could have sworn that they saw a raw column of light explode through the roof of one of the tall modern apartment buildings and nearly reach the Heavens.

Most of those people decided this too was another mass hallucination and went on with their lives as if nothing happened. There were a couple of conspiracy theorists who wouldn’t let it go for weeks, but that’s just people for you.

Aziraphale was standing in Crowley’s hallway – well, floating slightly – and shining brighter than the light of day.

He felt a weight in one of his hands and directed his thousand eyes at it.

It felt familiar in his grip. It felt like it called to him. Or maybe he had been the one to call it, in the first place. Maybe divine wrath was all that it took to get his own weapon back.

He looked down at his old flaming sword and couldn’t help but smile.

It wasn’t a particularly nice smile.

‘Well, call me an old silly, then…’

The look on Aziraphale’s face, if it could even still be described as a face, should have warned a lot of people, angels and demons included, against crossing this particular soldier of the Lord.

[Full size](https://www.rainydaypaperback.com/media/files/AO3/flame/azirahaleincrowleysflat.jpg)

***

‘ **_I need you to tell me where he is and I need you to tell me now!_ **’ the angel nearly screamed at him with a voice just divine enough that Eric feared his ears would start bleeding soon. The fact that a flaming sword was inches away from his face certainly didn’t help.

‘I, um, that is to say, I…’

‘ **_Out with it!_ **’

‘Idontknowwhoyouretalkingabout…um…sir?’

‘ **_Hastur, who else could I be talking about?_ **’

‘Um, he’s…um…he’s…in the main hall. Celebrating with a bunch of other demons. He seemed really…um…pleased about something.’

Eric couldn’t give a shit about throwing other demons to the wolves in order to save his own skin. It was how things were done over here. And he certainly didn’t give a shit about Hastur of all demons, seeing as he had discorporated him more times than he could remember along the years. More than all of the other demons put together.

‘ **_Did he, now? Good. I’d_ ** **hate** **_his last moments to be sad ones_ **.’

Eric gulped and looked at the sword with some urgency. The angel seemed to note that as he lowered it slightly and let go of Eric’s scarf completely. Eric didn’t need any extra incentive to take off right the very next second.

‘ **_DUKE HASTUR!_ **’ the angel bellowed so loudly that Eric could hear it from the other end of the huge lobby as if he was just inches away.

The whole of Hell seemed to stir.

It took a while but eventually Hastur and his gang of cronies made their way to the lobby with cheeky smirks and barred teeth and a number of not very pleasant expressions all around.

‘Well well, some of the guys thought you’d pop over. We had a round of bets about it, really. I said _nah_ , unworthy piece of shit like that – why would an angel even bother?’

Eric was cowering in a corner, scared out of his mind, but, at the same time, suicidal enough in his curiosity to linger on and see how this whole situation would be developing.

The lobby started filling with other demons too. They were a curious kind and, judging by their last big exploit, didn’t care about their well-being as a whole all that much.

Beelzebub nudged some of the demons aside, their elbows at perfect groin height for the nudging to prove very effective indeed, only to be met with the sight of an angel in true form in the middle of the fucking lobby.

Their gaze immediately landed on Hastur and they snarled at him.

‘You stupid son of a bitch, what did you do?’

He didn’t even bother replying, being a bit keener to antagonise the angel instead at that particular moment.

‘So what did you think would happen if you just waltzed in here? We’d all say, haha, funny prank haha and just hand Crowley over like that?’

Beelzebub was fuming. And panicking just a little bit, but that was no one else's concern.

‘What the fuck did you do, you utter cunt?’

Although by now they had a fair idea.

‘ **_Oh, no, Lord Hastur. I think we’re way,_ ** **way** **_past that by this point_ **,’ the angel smiled with his thousand eyes and it was brighter than anything they had ever seen in their 6000 years as demons. Also, a lot more terrifying. And then he brandished a flaming sword.

‘Oh, FUCK!’ Beelzebub muttered through gritted teeth as they closed their eyes and dove to the ground just as the lobby almost exploded.


	2. Limbo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: angel true form, implied violence, minor character death, mentioned blood and gore but behind closed curtains
> 
> I cannot thank my artist enough for this piece of art - it is a HUUUUGE canvas and an ACTUAL painting!!!

_And to a place I come where nothing shines._

The ruckus was so loud it was impossible to ignore even as he switched from Beethoven’s 9th, to Death Metal, to K-pop and then to Beethoven again, all blasted at full volume from the speakers.

There were shrieks and screams and, even though that was hardly out of the ordinary, they did seem more high-pitched than usual. And _more_ , in general. _Had those buggers let any of the Hellhounds loose by accident, again?_

Lucifer reluctantly got up from his chaise-longue, put down his glass of simply stellar whisky that he had bought the last time he went upstairs (you simply couldn’t get good whisky via a miracle, be it angelic or demonic) and begrudgingly made his way to the main lobby.

He was met with a mass of terrified demons that stood so still you would have thought Medusa herself had been down there for a friendly chat. And something that shone more brightly than anything in Hell had any right to.

He had to push some of the demons aside to see exactly what was happening.

‘What, _and I cannot stress this enough_ , the _FUCK_ is going on here?’

It wasn’t all in all a pretty sight but, then again, when had anything been a pretty sight down in Hell?

Aziraphale raised his eyes and threw Lucifer a determined look, panting slightly. There were lots of eyes. And more heads than just the usual one.

‘A little briefing can’t hurt, now there’s a love,’ Lucifer turned slightly towards Beelzebub, scrunched up his nose at them and gave them a wink. He apparently wasn’t that taken aback by seeing an angel there. Or the general state of affairs.

‘I…well…I…he came down and then…the sword…and then…I…um…Hastur…um…he is _NOT_ a pleasant angel, I can tell you that!’

‘Gloriously articulate.’

Lucifer glanced around and he noted that the walls bore even more grime than usual. _Or necessary_ , for that matter. That grime was fresh blood and quite a fair amount of it. And what looked like an impressive amount of wobbly bits.

‘What seems to be the problem?’ Lucifer asked as he clapped his hands together, all smiles.

‘ **_I came down here for Crowley_ **,’ the angel spoke in his ethereal voice. Lucifer winced a bit at the sound but kept his smile plastered on his face, regardless.

‘What has that rascal gone and done now? Not that he’s any longer part of the organisation, so…hate to break that to you, darling.’

‘ **_You took him away from me_ **.’

‘I _never_!’

He accompanied that by a mock hurt expression and a hand raised to his chest.

‘Beelzie, darling, what the Heavens is he talking about?’

‘Hastur kidnapped Crowley and brought him here, apparently. Then a lot of other demons stood in his way,’ they nodded towards the walls.

They did paint a very graphic picture, the walls. Graphic and not altogether nice. _Not very angelic, either_.

Lucifer admired that.

  


[full size](https://www.rainydaypaperback.com/media/files/AO3/flame/Aziraphalewithflaming%20sword.jpg)

‘Well then, let’s get Crowley back to you and then off you go,’ he said casually as if they weren’t surrounded by a dozen demons’ blood and guts caking the walls. ‘Where’s that wanker, Hastur? Might need a strong talking too. I _specifically_ said not to meddle with either of these tw-’

‘ **_He’s dead_ **,’ the angel announced in a cold, dead voice.

‘Oh. Right then. Dagon, when he comes around - a hundred years in one of them torture pits, yes?’

Dagon shook their head. Beelzebub also shook their head.

‘No, he means he’s _dead_ dead.’

Aziraphale brandished his flaming sword to drive the point home.

‘Ah, I see. Well then, good riddance,’ Lucifer stated casually as if he couldn’t be bothered.

‘You mentioned Crowley? Where is that bastard anyway? Can’t say I haven’t missed the sod ever since he took up retirement. Find him, give him a pat on the back and then him and the angel can be on their merry way and we can all put this behind us, yes?’

‘ **_Aziraphale_ **.’

‘Wossat?’

‘ **_My name is Aziraphale_ **.’

‘I know what your name is. You’d think preventing Armageddon would give you some notoriety. _Sheesh_. So, guys, fetch Crowley, chop chop.’

Beelzebub opened their mouth to speak but it was Dagon that got to say anything first.

‘We can’t, my Lord. He’s…well…he’s in one of the pits.’

‘How’s that an issue? They’re your domain. Master of Torments and everything? Don’t make me regret I assigned that job to you.’

‘Not those pits. The…um… _other_ ones.’

‘Oh. _Right_. I can see how that is just a little bit…problematic,’ Lucifer winced a bit.

He had no idea who had designed Hell the way it had been designed. It was certainly not him. He guessed it was rather ineffable, really. But no one, not even him, much enjoyed venturing to the deepest darkest pits of Hell for fear of what they’d find there. And sure, Hell was shite all around. But you didn’t mess with _those_ pits. You pushed demons in them from up high, but you never ventured at floor level. Did weird things to your head, that. Made you go completely demented, for a start. Nine circles indeed, and the farther down you went the madder you became, each level built specifically to draw out your inner demons - _hah!_ – the play on words was not lost on him. And then some sloppy demon got drunk and told that infuriating Italian bloke all about it. The demon in question had been apprehended and sentenced to a hundred years of torture but the harm had already been done as that particular bloke saw fit to write all about it and now humanity knew how Hell worked. Well, _not quite_ , but it hit too close to home for comfort.

Demons tried their hardest to keep on the upper level in the bits of Hell specifically designed for demons to begin with and only let the mortals venture further down. And demons they never planned on ever seeing again. They didn’t give a shit about mortal souls and especially not about mortal souls that ended up in Hell. They did give a shit about their sanity, though. And venturing down was not good for it.

Lucifer’s expression turned from a wince to a lazy sly smile in a matter of seconds as an idea started forming in his head.

‘Say, Aziraphale, what would you do to get Crowley back?’

‘ **_Anything_ **.’

‘ _Good_ , I was hoping you’d say that. See, the problem with the pits Dagon mentioned is this: we never go there. Not even for holiday. Not that we have holidays, am I right, lads?’

There were some uncertain laughs around the room.

‘You could, though. If you wanted. I promise I will do nothing to stop you. Cross my heart,’ he said and placed a hand on his chest. ‘Always liked a good story, me. Chivalrous knight rescues damsel in distress and all that. You even have a sword and everything.’

‘ **_What’s the catch?_ **’

‘Ah, you are a smart little angel, aren’t you? Well, you see, venturing downwards comes with some strains. Does weird things to the head,’ he said and tapped his temple. ‘I’m sure nothing like that would ever happen to you, being an angel and all. But, if it does…’

‘ **_Then what?_ **’

‘Well, if you give in to temptation, then your soul is mine. Always liked more demons around. New faces, you know? Makes the whole place much more interesting. Lovely talks around the water cooler.’

‘That stopped working thirty years ago,’ one of the lesser demons chanced.

‘Well, of course it has! We are in Hell, are we not?’

The little interruption didn’t sway Aziraphale.

‘And if I agree to your terms you won’t stay in my way?’ he asked, looking more human rather than celestial menace with each passing moment. His voice went back to normal. Most of the eyes had vanished, too.

‘I won’t do anything of the sort. Pinkie promise.’

‘And then you will let us both leave?’

‘Ah, there you have it, catch number two. I will _absolutely_ do that, _IF_ Crowley agrees to go with you. If not, you will both be trapped here, indefinitely.’

‘He will.’

‘Oh, _goody_ ! Nice to see some optimism around here! You’d think there’d be more but unfortunately there isn’t. This lot is always just doom and gloom. Such a breath of fresh air,’ he said as he clapped his hands once more. ‘So, do we have a deal, then? I’ll even throw in an Eric to serve as your guide to prove my _endless_ generosity.’

Eric let his eyes wander from the devil to the angel and tried his best not to have a panic attack.

Aziraphale looked at the extended hand and cursed at the universe at large for what he was about to do before he sighed in defeat and shook it.

‘We have a deal.’

‘Good. And one more thing,’ he said with both hands wrapped around Aziraphale’s and face only inches apart from the angel’s. ‘Make sure on your way back up that he never looks back, now there’s a love.’

Aziraphale looked at him dubiously.

‘Always liked a Greek tragedy, me. What can I say? Call me an old softie, or even…a patron of the arts, but there you have it. Good storytelling, that.’

‘I…is there a particular reason behind this?’

‘Nah, I’m just immensely bored and thought it would be fun. Right then. Ta ta’,’ he said as he made his way out of the lobby.

‘Oh, and Aziraphale?’ he turned around at the last moment with a mischievous glint in his eye.

‘Yes?’

‘You _do_ realise you literally just made a deal with the Devil?’


	3. Greed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: the Great Fire of London, book burning, some more extra eyes popping on the side
> 
> Now with extra added art by the wonderful [fenrislorsrai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fenrislorsrai/pseuds/fenrislorsrai)! I am super super happy about the extra bits!

_For all the gold that is beneath the moon,_

_Or ever has been, of these weary souls_

_Could never make a single one repose._

‘Um…I don’t remember agreeing to any of this,’ a terrified looking Eric commented when presented with a broken-looking tablet by the Lord of Flies.

‘And I don’t remember azzzking for your opinion.’

‘But…but…surely there are other demons…more competent demons who can act as a guide…’

‘On that we are in perfect agreement. None of the otherzzz are as dizzzpozzzable, though. Pluzzz, you heard him. Bozzz’z orderz.’

He took a look at Beelzebub’s stone-cold expression and gulped.

‘Angel Azzzziraphale,’ Beelzebub turned towards him and Eric breathed a sigh of relief to not have those icy eyes fixed on him anymore. ‘I can’t zzzay I approve of Lucifer’z decizzzion but he iz the bozzzzz. And Hazzztur wazzz completely out of line. You take thizzz horrible excuze for a demon and you do your thing. I want you both gone by the end of the day. I hate that traitor with a pazzzion and I can’t zay I’m very keen on you either. Whoever came up with the notion that angelzzzz are _nice_?’

They spat out the last word as if being physically repulsed by it.

‘Ah. Well, that would be Michael and Gabriel, I’m afraid.’

Aziraphale offered them a curt smile.

Now that he had calmed down somewhat and had been given every reassurance that none of the demons would try to stop him under pain of utter annihilation, he started to look more like an old bookshop owner and less like an all-powerful cosmic horror.

‘Should have zzzuzzpected thoze feathery fuckzzz.’

Aziraphale couldn’t help but agree with the statement. He was feeling more like his old self again. That is to say a bundle of incessant worry but enough of an optimist that he believed he could get both himself and Crowley out of his situation. He now knew for a fact that Crowley was not dead, but very much alive and he strongly believed he could make everything better again. _Everything was alright. He would make sure it would all be alright._

That was to say until Beelzebub uttered their next words. 

‘Zurprizzzed to zze that zztupid bazzztard came up with zzzomething like thiz in the firzt place. An eternity in the depezzzt darkezzzt pitz. He waz not particularly known for hizzz imagination.’

Aziraphale paled at the mention. He had been the one to suggest it in the first place, all of those months ago. He knew they would be trying to kill Crowley with Holy Water so it was more of an off-hand comment since he knew the demon’s penchant for random ramblings. But they had paid attention to it apparently and had taken him up on his suggestion.

He tried his hardest to keep his expression as indifferent as he possibly could. This was all his fault. He knew demons didn’t have any imagination, Crowley had said as much. And there he went, giving them free ammunition. _FUCK!_

Beelzebub was eyeing him with a raised eyebrow and a curious expression.

‘Might want to put that away,’ they said, glancing at the still blazing sword.

‘Why would I do that?’

‘Becauzze you have the promizze of the Lord of Hell that no demon will ever lay a finger on you. We keep our promizzezzz here, not like you lot, Upztairzzz.’

Aziraphale pondered over this for a bit.

He was in the middle of Hell, surrounded by millions of demons. Of course, he had decimated quite a few, but he couldn’t take all of them down on his own. He knew that. They also knew that. And yet, no attempt on his life had been made. Maybe Beelzebub was right.

‘What _IS_ the catch then, really?’ he asked but he did sheath his sword, still gripping the pommel tightly.

‘You’ll zee zzzon enough, angel. Where you’re going…that’z not demon Hell. That’z human Hell. Doesn’t work by the zame rulezzz.’

‘So it’s nothing like this then?’

‘Mhm,’ Dagon joined in, putting a reassuring hand on Beelzebub’s shoulder.

‘So this is what, then?’

‘Limbo, I guess?’ Dagon flashed their hundred teeth at him.

‘How does,’ he cleared his throat and tried again. ‘How does the other Hell work then?’

‘Wouldn’t you want to know?’ Dagon smirked. It was not a very pretty sight.

Some of Aziraphale’s many eyes made their presence known again as he tightened his grip on the sword handle.

‘Oh, jeez. Fine! It’s custom made for everyone in it. Your worst fears and all of that. Inner demons, you know? Since we can’t convince any of the actual demons to go down there to save our lives.’

‘You’re sending me, so -’ Eric was quickly interrupted.

‘Shut up, Eric!’ Beelzebub and Dagon bellowed at the same time.

As soon as they said that a lot of beeps and pings could be heard all around. Some of the demons looked down at their preferred electronic devices. The ones that remained firmly rooted in the fourteenth century, like Hastur had done had other demons come and deliver them missives.

It appeared to be an interdepartmental memo circulating all around.

‘Right then,’ some of the demons grumbled and left the lobby.

‘What’s that about?’ Aziraphale questioned, looking at Beelzebub with a curious but still very put off expression. _He had an act to play, after all._

‘That iz our darling bozz telling everyone to lay low. Zzzo he can have hiz fun. And your little quezzt will be zo much fun, angel,’ they smiled wickedly at him. After the initial shock of what had happened to Hastur wore off, they felt more and more in control. This was just one little angel against all the Legions of the Damned. He had no chance in…well, Hell. Not to mention the quest he was embarking on was near impossible, at best. He might as well have signed his eternal soul over then and there.

‘I will prevail. If God wills it, obviously,’ he felt the need to add.

This was met with some barks of laughter.

‘I don’t think even an angel can abzztain from all of the temptationzzz on your way down there,’ Beelzebub provided.

Aziraphale bit his lip.

He wanted to say that if he managed to abstain from the biggest temptation there was – Crowley – for six thousand years, then he could surely abstain from whatever unimaginative things Hell had in stock for him. He didn’t. It was best for everyone, all things considered.

Everyone failed to mention that Hell had nothing to do with how those particularly intrusive thoughts permeated your mind, you did it all on your own. After all, one is one’s own worst enemy, at the end of the day.

Beelzebub grabbed Eric by one of his jacket sleeves and gave him a hard push forward towards the angel.

‘I would zzzay good luck. But I really don’t mean that. Maybe break a leg – I do mean that, but azzz I’m given to underztand that’zzz juzt as good. Zo I’m juzzzt going to be blunt about it. I really hope you fail and that traitor never zzzeezzz the light of day ever again.’

With that Beelzebub turned on their heels and exited the lobby. Dagon gave him a frankly terrifying smile and followed swiftly.

The other demons were leering at him so he thought some more innumerable eyes display was in order.

That seemed to dampen everyone’s spirits as they also scurried out of the room, trying to seem nonchalant about it.

Eric was keeping the cracked tablet over his head and shivering slightly.

‘Oh, dear boy, I never wanted to frighten you earlier. Something must have got to me. I assure you I don’t usually act like that,’ Aziraphale flashed him an honest smile.

Eric chanced a look and, sure enough, Aziraphale was yet again looking like an old librarian.

That had not been the case half an hour ago.

He looked at the walls some more and shuddered.

‘Right then. Better be off,’ the demon tried his best to keep his voice even. He didn’t succeed. It sounded very high pitched and there was a slight tremor in it.

***

‘Are you sure you know how to navigate this place?’ Aziraphale asked after maybe half an hour of going in circles and arriving at no particular destination.

‘I don’t know. I’ve never actively tried to search the entrance to human Hell. That shit’s horrible.’

Aziraphale fought back a very pointed remark that went something along the lines of “ _And this isn’t?_ ”.

‘So how exactly does this work? Dagon hadn’t been particularly descriptive.’

‘Well, there’s nine levels. Circles, that one guy called them. But they’re not altogether circle-y. I guess they shift shape and size for everyone. It depends on your mood and your state of mind. I think if you’re an angel it should work better,’ Eric chanced a frightened little smile. ‘Your lot is not prone to give in to temptation, from what I’ve heard,’ he added as he mentally told himself not to think about that grime on the walls.

‘Well yes, I suppose we aren’t particularly tempted by things,’ Aziraphale lied through his teeth and tried to maintain his perfect composure. He was most definitely not thinking about Crowley at the moment.

Then he frowned for a bit. This seemed awfully familiar.

‘So, let me get this straight? Dante was right all along?’

‘To a certain degree. Much more philosophical than the actual thing. Hell, that is. But dude’s got his way with metaphors.’

‘Who would have thought. I’d been harbouring under the impression that that Bosch fellow was closer to the truth,’ Aziraphale replied with a slight frown over hearing Dante being referred to as “dude”.

‘Oh, he was, alright. For a couple of hundred years. Then we thought we’d redo the joint. Give it a more modern spin.’

‘Very modern indeed,’ Aziraphale said while inspecting a leaky pipe.

Eric didn’t know much about angels in general but he knew sarcasm when he heard it. He didn’t further comment on it as he remembered this particular angel’s expression back in Heaven when he asked if he could hit him and instead tried to make himself as helpful as possible lest the angel remembered that particular bit. Aziraphale was completely unaware of the fact due mainly to Crowley flat out refusing to tell him anything about what had transpired back Upstairs, but how was a lowly demon to know that?

‘Ah, right, there it is!’ Eric beamed as he pointed to a rickety looking elevator. It might have as well been Otis’s first prototype by the looks of it, Aziraphale noticed with a wince.

For all his love for older things he had stayed well away from those death contraptions until sometime in the sixties and never ventured near anything that had no proper door.

‘Is that the only way in?’

‘I guess. I don’t really know.’

Aziraphale was under the faint impression that Eric wasn’t the best possible guide.

‘Well…I suppose needs must. After you.’

He stepped into the narrow space after the demon and chanced a silent prayer as Eric pulled the scissor gate closed with quite a lot of effort and a fair amount of screeching. It was a wonder that he could even get it to close judging by the thick layer of rust on it.

The buttons in the elevator looked nothing like numbers. In fact they looked nothing like anything Aziraphale had previously seen.

They were some very intricate looking patterns. _Or could it be images? Sigils?_ They looked entirely unearthly and entirely demonic.

‘Um, I’m guessing first button, then?’ Eric supplied in an unhelpful manner.

‘Can’t you read that?’

‘Nope, I’m afraid.’

_First button it was then._

Aziraphale sighed and pushed it.

  


[full size](https://www.rainydaypaperback.com/media/files/AO3/flame/elevator.png)

The elevator vibrated for a little bit and then it gave a hard tug and started moving to one side, defying any and all laws about how such a contraption should properly work.

Not that any of the supernatural entities inside ever expected it to act like a normal elevator to begin with.

After what seemed like an eternity it drew to a halt while sparks flew through the air from the apparent rails on which the elevator operated that were obviously not there.

Eric stumbled out of it first, followed by a primmer looking but definitely green-faced Aziraphale.

‘So this is it. First Circle.’ He tapped his tablet. ‘Greed.’

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and tried his best not to have a snippy reply.

‘Greed is the third one, dear boy. Should we go back?’

‘I don’t think it’s linear at all. Otherwise what could stop you from pressing the last button?’

He had to admit it sort of made sense. But, then again, that button itself could be jammed or something until the proper time came. It seemed very counter productive to have them all jumbled up like that.

Not to mention that it wasn’t proper. _That man had written some extraordinary verses._

Aziraphale looked around and expected to see tons of damned souls.

Instead of that they were in an empty dark hall and nothing much was happening.

‘Is this how it’s supposed to go?’ Aziraphale asked.

Eric just shrugged.

_Alright, this was definitely going to be a problem._

Swift gusts of air started gathering around Aziraphale as if they were getting the feel of him. Sensing him. Trying to figure out his deepest and darkest thoughts.

Whatever would happen next would be catered to his particular wants, desires and beliefs.

In front of him an image of a field in Tadfield started forming.

The room around them adjusted so it could fit the imagery.

He could see Anathema and Newt sitting in front of a fire, holding on to an old manuscript.

They were really far away but angels and demons had supernatural hearing and eyesight, for all that Aziraphale chose to wear those glasses of his because he thought they looked nifty.

He could make out what it read on the cover, clear as day.

‘What are you doing, you silly, silly girl!’

Of course, the couple couldn’t hear him and carried on spewing some nonsense about her not wanting to be a descendant anymore.

‘But that’s no reason to burn them,’ Aziraphale wailed. ‘You could always give them to me.’

As if on cue, the image shifted, this time showing a seventeen-century witch.

He had no trouble figuring out who it was.

Even if he had never personally met the woman, he was clever enough to know where this was going.

It was Agnes, looking him up and down with a slightly raised eyebrow.

‘Thou art not what I was expecting.’

‘Um…’

‘Think of it as a compliment.’

‘Thank you…?’

‘Thou woulds’t be wanting these, woulds’t thou not?’ she asked as she produced a second set of prophecies. In perfect condition. Completely unburned.

He ached to extend his hand and take them.

He had always hoarded books of prophecy. And to know that he’d own the only set of the “Nice and Accurate Prophecies, The Sequel” in existence, prophecies that would keep the world safe for the next couple hundred years, well, that _had_ to mean something, didn’t it?

He nearly took a step forward before his mind started an inner war with itself.

_What are you doing? You came down here for Crowley._

Yes, but those are completely priceless. And the only copy there is.

_You are in Hell. What good is that book going to do to you?_

I’ve searched for the first one for centuries. I could at least have this one.

‘Would this not be the most precious thing to have?’ the witch arched her eyebrows at him, as if on cue.

***

_Aziraphale snapped his eyes open when he heard someone cry out._

_The whole night had been like that and, were he human, he would have been exhausted by now. Probably not even able to properly move his limbs anymore. But, luckily for him and all of the people who had been either miracled to safety or helped out of their burning houses in a more human fashion, he didn’t tire that easily._

_He was also very lucky that he didn’t need to breathe because otherwise the thick dark smoke would have become a major problem sometime in the first twenty minutes. It was now five hours later and he was still doing his best to get as many people as possible to safety._

_The cries grew louder and more desperate and were now accompanied by the ones of a woman down in the street doing whatever she could to thrash and scream at the people holding her back and begging them to let her go._

_Aziraphale followed her eyes in the direction of the house she was screaming at and could hear two more voices inside. Children._

_The fire roared some more and one of the beams collapsed and with it so did half of the roof._

_The woman fell to her knees, sobbing openly and he didn’t even spare a second thought before he darted inside with his once pristine looking brocade tail coat over his head, following the source of the noise._

_Two very young looking children were cowering in a corner. One of them was a boy no older than five with a small babe clutched to his chest crying out in desperation for whoever it was that could hear him._

_The half collapsed roof and heavy wooden beam that was already aflame stood between the angel and the two children but he paid it no mind as he snapped it completely out of existence and darted for the two of them._

_‘Are you alright? Can you walk?’ he asked the frightened little boy as he inspected him for any damage other than the incessant coughing. ‘Alright, pass me the baby and hold on to my hand,’ he offered, trying to position his coat so as to cover all three of them and hurried down the stairs that were already creaking and about to give in at any moment._

_As soon as they were outside he was ambushed by a mass of cheers and people hugging him but he had no time for that. He thought he sensed a familiar presence and started searching for the demon when the church’s roof fell in._

_‘Oh, Lord. The books,’ he whispered to himself as he made a run for it, tail coat long forgotten in the boy’s hands._

_Aziraphale didn’t often run. It was not something he had made a habit out of. But there were books involved so he was making an exception this one time._

_The church was completely ablaze. It had all started with some of the wooden scaffolding but it had spread all over the dome and was now burning on the inside as well, aided by the many tomes._

_‘Oh no,’ he mouthed as he stood in the doorway for a second before snapping out of it and darting inside._

_He could swear he heard someone snarl_ ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake!’ _but he only had the books on his mind at the moment so he tried his hardest to focus his miracles to clear a path towards the tomes that weren’t already completely engulfed in flames._

_His focus was so single minded that he never stopped to take in how completely beat down he was. He had tried miracling people to safety for the last couple of hours. He had never done that before in his life._

_So it came as a complete shock to him when he snapped his fingers and nothing happened._

Oh. Right then. This was the way he would discorporate for the first time. 

_He let the scrolls and the tomes fall down to his feet and nearly collapsed to his knees, feeling for the first time that night that he might have overdone it with the miracles, maybe just a little, his legs almost giving in._

_‘Ah, Heaven’s sake, why does it have to be a aaaaargh church. Aaaaarh, that burns.’_

_Aziraphale lifted his eyes only to see Crowley hopping around in a very comedic, were it not for the dire situation they were in, fashion._

_But he didn’t do it for long as he grabbed the nearest ladder and climbed on the scaffolding that wasn’t completely engulfed by flames just yet._

_Now that he was keeping still, or at least a little more so than he previously did, Aziraphale could get a better look at the demon._

_He bore the customary tights and tall boots that all cavaliers wore but his frock coat was missing, dark billowy shirt with embroidered cuffs and an elaborate collar that had no business sitting open like that being there instead for all to see._

_Aziraphale hadn’t seen him so scantily clad since Pompeii probably._ Well _, Florence, actually, but both of them pretended that never happened._

_But what stood to attention more than anything else was his mane of expertly styled curls that should have been rendered a mess by now, judging by the state of the rest of his clothes - charred and ripped apart and stained with soot._

_He found a pulley and made his way upwards on the next level of the scaffolding and Aziraphale couldn’t keep his eyes off his lithe figure. How the shirtsleeves fell down his thin forearms, exposing delicate wrists and long, elegant fingers that worked the ropes effortlessly. How he managed to move so sinuously upwards and,_ oh, good lord _, those tights alone might just discorporate him._

_It took a length of rope nearly hitting his calf and a series of finger snaps to make him pay attention to his surroundings yet again._

_‘For fuck’s sake angel. Stop sitting there looking pretty and grab the end of this rope.’_

_Aziraphale looked at Crowley with a dazed expression for another couple of seconds._

_‘Do you want a proper introduction? Rope, this is Aziraphale. Angel, rope. Now come on before you discorporate, you utter tit!’_

_‘I can’t, Crowley. The books. I have to salvage the books,’ he pointed at the tomes at his feet._

_‘I will come down there and drag you out if I have to. Forget about the bloody books!’_

_‘Forget about the....Crowley, you can’t be serious!’_

_‘Alright, fine I’ll just miracle them to safety, just grab the bloody rope!’_

_Aziraphale pondered if huffing at Crowley right now would be the best thing to do but then decided against it and wrapped his hands around the thick rope dangling from the pulley only to cry out in pain._

_‘What is it?’ Crowley called out from above. ‘Angel, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?’_

_That prompted him to look down at the palms of his hands that bore obvious blisters and were scorched nearly raw._

_He hadn’t felt the burns up so far, but then again he hadn’t tried to dangle his whole body weight on a rope by grabbing at it with obvious third degree burns on his hands._

_He snapped his fingers. Again nothing._

_‘I...I’m fine, just some minor damage. I think I burned my hands when I pulled out some of the books.’_

_‘Satan help me,’ Crowley groaned and wrapped his hand around one end of the rope as he threw himself down from the scaffolding, grabbing the other end mid jump._

_And, the next thing he knew, Crowley was next to him, now both of them surrounded by a circle of flames taller than the average person. For a stone building there sure were a lot of things that could burn inside of it, apparently._

_‘Alright, so what’s the big plan? You miracle the both of us to safety, or what?’_

_‘Nah, I’m all out of miracles.’_

_'You're what? You just said that you would miracle the books safe.'_

_'Only to get you out of here. I thought that was altogether obvious.'_

_‘You...are you demented ?’_

_‘That’s not a very nice thing to call someone who came to your rescue, angel.’_

_‘Well, first of all, I didn’t ask you to. And second of all, not much of a rescue since we are both going to die here. Discorporate. You know what I’m talking about.’_

_‘I have absolutely no intention to let that happen. Here. Put your arm around my shoulders,’ Crowley said and positioned Aziraphale’s arm just so. They were now mere inches apart and Aziraphale thanked all his lucky stars that he didn’t need to breathe._

_‘What do you think you are doing?’_

_‘Rescuing myself a helpless angel, what does it look like? Now, put your other arm around, ah, that’s it,’ the demon grinned at him as he positioned Aziraphale’s arm just under his own and around his torso._

_‘Now hold tight,’ Crowley flashed him another very self satisfied smile and pulled at the rope._

_Aziraphale gave a panicked yelp but the next thing he knew they were on the first level of the scaffold which was now ablaze._

_‘Grab my hand, angel!’ Crowley shouted at him and did him one better by grabbing the angel’s hands instead and guiding him amidst the flames._

_The scaffold was rickety and he felt like they would fall off of it all the way to presumed safety but Crowley's hand was warm in his own. He didn't even register the blisters anymore._

_Then the demon climbed down on the other side of the ring of fire and offered the same hand to help Aziraphale descend the last extra steps and if being burned alive wasn’t reason enough for discorporation then this certainly was. The gentleness of the gesture was nothing like the desperate pull he had felt earlier. He took Crowley's hand anyway but had second thoughts throughout his venture down the ladder._

_He tried to defuse whatever was happening however he knew best._

_‘Crowley, the books!’_

_The demon spun on his heels and cupped Aziraphale’s cheeks._

_‘Angel. I know we are not on the same side. I know you are wary of me all the time. Even now, probably. But please, let’s just go. You are far more valuable than those books, there is no need to risk your life for them.’_

_‘We both know I wouldn’t die. Not actually, anyway.’_

_‘Discorporate then. Tried that. Would not recommend. Please just,’ he took a hold of Aziraphale’s hand yet again and pointed at the exit._

_‘I just -’ Aziraphale started already missing Crowley’s hand on the side of his face._

_‘Angel, please. You are far more valuable than a bunch of books. They will rebuild. They will print other books. They always do. Please?’_

_‘But I -’_

_‘What did you do today?’_

_‘What do you mean?’_

_‘How many people did you save today?’_

_‘I don’t know. A couple.’_

_‘How many people did those books save?’_

_‘Crowley, it’s not about that and you know it.’_

_‘Angel,’ Crowley cupped his face yet again and Aziraphale would have given anything for that moment to last forever. ‘They will write other books. They will. They’re ingenious like that. But you? You are so precious. More precious than anything else. More precious than all the books in existence.’_

_Aziraphale still didn't seem convinced._

_'There'll be more books, angel. I promise I'll save those for you, yes?'_

***

_‘Would this not be the most precious thing to have?’_

He completely snapped out of it.

_No. It wouldn’t._

Crowley was the most precious thing in his long and frankly lonely life.

_He would always be the most precious thing._

He took a step back.

Agnes smiled widely and the parchment disappeared from her hand.

He could see it further down in the field as the flames consumed it and frowned. He wanted to do something. Call out. Rush over and grab it directly from the flames. Anything. By all intents and purposes that book had to be his. _Why hadn’t Agnes sent it to him in the first place?_

His nails dug half moons in the heels of his palms but he tried his hardest to quench it all down.

He took another step back. Then another. And another.

He backed up until he was inside the elevator, by now considering it the only safe place to be in in this particular scenario.

Eric closed the scissor gate and then stared at the buttons panel.

‘What should we try now?’

‘You’re supposed to be the guide, not me. I don’t know. We could try the second one, even if they are clearly not in any particular order.’

‘We could go rogue. Let’s try this one, then,’ Eric grinned and pushed the last button.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flashback scene:  
> London. 1666. The old St. Paul's burning down because of the scaffolding that was all wood. And also because of the fire going around. People thought it a good idea to stash books inside the church for safekeeping but the dome gave in at some point and nearly everything burned down. It continued burning for a full week.  
> I don't like giving up too many historical titbits in my fics or describing the period in particular detail, I prefer the scene to happen naturally - so I wanted to explain what I was going on about in the notes :)


	4. Gluttony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: non-con touching and attempted kissing (but it's just a hallucination), mentions of discorporation

_For the pernicious sin of gluttony I,_

_as thou seest, am battered by this rain_

‘What were you expecting to happen?’ Aziraphale said as he primly adjusted his waistcoat.

‘Dunno. Hoped it will take us directly to our destination and be done with it.’

‘Really? And _you’re_ supposed to be the demon. You’re supposed to know how Hell works. Even I figured out that it simply couldn’t work like that.’

‘So what, we just push buttons at random and see if we have any luck?’

Aziraphale looked him up and down and tutted slightly.

‘You know, you are a very incompetent Virgil.’

‘Who’s that?’

‘You said you read Dante.’

‘I said no such thing. Demons don’t read.’

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. _Didn’t read indeed._ He knew for a fact that Crowley had all of Shakespeare’s plays memorised, for all he claimed he didn’t read books. _Well, the funny ones, at least._

‘Never said that,’ Eric continued. ‘Just that I heard some Italian bloke wrote about it. There was a lot of fuss about it at the time. Heard your lot got him, too. He would have been so _so_ fried if he ended up here. Literally, I mean. Hellfire and everything. Whoosh!’

The demon chuckled but quickly changed his expression into something more serious as he saw the look on the angel’s face and remembered his own trial by Hellfire. _Well, lack thereof._

‘Yes, it was an extraordinary thing for him to get up there.’

Aziraphale failed to comment that they only got him because of how the people Upstairs patted themselves on the back that they now knew how Hell worked and it would be easy to crush the enemy when push came to shove.

Apparently thought, it was more metaphor than anything else, though. And it had nothing to do with the poet’s writings other than maybe the 9 circles bit.

‘Which one is it now?’

‘Um, let me check,’ Eric tried typing something on the tablet and, when that didn’t work, he thumped it against the nearest wall.

‘Ah, there we are. Gluttony this time.’

_Well, then. This was a pretty straightforward one, no? Had to be. He at least knew that about himself. But since it was so perfectly fitted to his personality he knew that he could do his best not to give in._

The air shifted around them and the mouldy stench of hell was replaced by the sweetest of smells.

Aziraphale closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He smelled cinnamon and vanilla and nutmeg. There was a hint of strawberries and the chocolate smell was intoxicating.

When he opened his eyes again the room had shifted completely.

He was now sitting in the middle of the Ritz. All the tables were empty of any people but laden with all the courses available on the menu and several dishes that weren’t even on there. Most of them were desserts, though. 

Aziraphale chanced a look. They were all personal favourites of his.

_Of course they were._

A waiter appeared out of thin air and nearly dragged him towards one of the tables, urging him to sit down.

Aziraphale threw him a curt smile and tried his best not to look down at the scrumptious looking display in front of him.

He felt a hand land on his shoulder and heard the chair next to his being dragged down on the floor.

He turned and looked up only to see Crowley smile widely at him and sit down next to him, closer than on their usual dinner dates.

‘Hello angel.’

‘Um…yes. Rather.’

Crowley continued smiling, just a tad too knowing for Aziraphale’s taste or comfort.

‘Hello to you too, my dear.’

He knew it was just an illusion. _But it was still Crowley. His Crowley._ He fought back the urge to caress the demon’s cheek.

‘Angel. Look at this glorious display. It has everything you can possibly wish for. Hmm, looks so tasty even I might have a try.’

To drive the point home Crowley took a fork and stabbed the chocolate mousse cake that looked positively sinful. And then bit down on it making a sound that Aziraphale had never heard him make before.

_Was that…was that how he sounded like when he ate?_

_Oh, Heavens forbid…_

Crowley took off his sunglasses and set them on the table, shooting Aziraphale the most suggestive look the angel had ever seen.

‘Oh, Lord…’

‘What’s wrong, angel? Surely you want to try some of this stuff. It is positively…sinful,’ he said and smiled widely.

Aziraphale cleared his throat.

‘Of course you would like to enjoy something so delightful, my hedonistic little angel. You would, wouldn’t you? You’d lick the whole plate clean. Or better yet,’ Crowley said as he started circling the top of the cake with one of his fingers and then took said finger and smeared as much chocolate mousse as he could on his bottom lip. ‘Maybe, you’d like some spice to go along with your sweets. I am amenable if you are. Always have been.’

Aziraphale gulped and averted his eyes.

‘That sounds very tempting, my dear.’

‘That is rather the point, isn’t it?’

He chanced another look at Crowley who was sucking his index and middle finger in the lewdest way possible. He even had the gall to lick his lips to get rid of all the extra chocolate.

_Oh, God, what have I ever done to deserve this?_

Avert the Apocalypse, of course. _There is that._ Also consort with a demon. And perform a lot of temptations for said demon. Also turned a blind eye on a lot of occasions. _Alright, I did quite a lot. But this is too much. Please, Lord, please._

Crowley pulled his fingers out of his mouth with a loud and frankly pornographic pop.

‘You sure you don’t want any, angel? I know it’s your favourite.’

If this was how Gluttony worked Aziraphale feared for his own life when even considering Lust.

_No. No. This was too much. Too fast._

_This wasn’t Crowley._

_But what if it was? What if this was something he could have?_

Crowley smeared his index finger in chocolate mousse yet again and placed it on the angel’s lips.

Aziraphale bit the inside of his cheek to fight his every instinct that urged him to give in and suck that finger clean of all of the chocolate.

‘Come on, angel. Open up for me. You know you want it.’

He literally fought back tears.

Crowley smiled wickedly at him and ate the mousse on his finger while humming in appreciation.

‘Would this be better, angel? If you were to taste it on me?’

He leaned in, inappropriately so and placed his lips a breath away from Aziraphale’s.

The angel could smell the chocolate flavour. But he could also smell Crowley. Everything about that smell was intoxicating. _And too much. Too soon. Too fast. Too easy._

***

_The bistro they were in smelled divine. Aziraphale had had no doubt about it as he had guided Crowley towards it, dodging angry revolutionaries all the way._

_He knew it would be worth the effort when he travelled here from England._

_The sweet taste of powdered sugar in the air. The feel of nuts and honey. The impossibly bourgeois feeling of tasting chocolate. It was not spread haphazardly on the dough like Aziraphale would have liked but dosed in small amounts as it was still very expensive, making those particular crepes the most expensive ones on the poorly written menu nailed next to the door. It had quite a lot of spelling mistakes too, and Aziraphale wasn’t even fluent in French._

_He dismissed the smell of marron glacé and sat down, motioning Crowley to do the same. Crowley, who looked at him with an easy smile and such a friendly look that Aziraphle never got from head office. Crowley who accepted him, whatever he did. Crowley who looked at him in that honest-to-God sinful way as he ate._

_‘You know you are absolutely committing the sin of Gluttony right now, angel.’_

_‘What do you mean?’ Aziraphale asked as he stuffed his mouth full of chocolate crepe._

_‘I mean you would never give those sugary things up for anything.’_

_‘That’s not true!’_

_‘Hah, tell me one thing that you would give them up for.’_

You.

It’s always been you.

_‘You’re right, I suppose. Nothing at all.’_

_‘Hah, so much so that you travelled all the way to Paris during a revolution, dressed like that. Very entertaining.’_

_Aziraphale didn’t comment on the fact that the only reason why he had been wearing those clothes was that he wanted Crowley to come around and save him. And see him dressed like that._

_The demon should have been none the wiser about the whole thing._

_But then Crowley leaned in over the table and towards him and threw him a warm smile._

_‘Well, you must know that I’d never let you discorporate if I could help it. Like I said. Not that pretty, discorporating. Would not recommend it.’_

_‘What do you mean?’_

_‘Not five out of five, is all I’m saying. Hmm, that should be a thing. I could make that a thing. I wonder if I could make that totally insufferable.’_

_‘It’s not what I meant, you fiend. And please do refrain yourself from doing that. I was asking what you meant about not letting me discorporate. You said I was just lucky you were in the area.’_

_Crowley pushed his own crepe around the plate with his fork for a while and tried his best to avoid Aziraphale’s gaze._

_‘Well, I might have omitted a few aspects.’_

_‘Crowley.’_

_‘Angel.’_

_‘What might those aspects be, then?’_

_‘Might have sensed that you were in danger and came round to save your angelic behind,’ was whispered more than stated while Crowley made a point of staring at his plate._

_‘Oh, Crowley, that’s so -’_

_‘Shut it!’_

_‘You didn’t even know what I was going to tell you.’_

_‘I gathered it was some four letter word or other. Which I am not. It would just get insanely boring over here if you discorporated or anything.’_

_‘Of course.’_

_‘You are a proper bastard, you know that?’_

_‘And yet here you are, being very dashing in your rescue attempt.’_

_‘Attempt?’_

_‘Alright, complete success.’_

_‘Well, anyway. I wouldn’t let some dessert or other have you discorporated. I think I’d just miss you too much.’_

_Aziraphale’s eyes were as wide as saucers._

_‘What I meant was eat your stupid pancakes, if you went to all this trouble for them. Here, have these too. I’m not a big fan of sweets.’_

***

As Crowley leaned in to kiss him he pushed at the side of the table, hard, and ended up flat on his back, chair by now tipped over and perfect dining arrangement completely ruined as he had pulled at the table cloth when nothing better to grab onto had presented itself and half of the desserts on it had fallen on the floor around him. And some of them, on him, as he noticed various different stains on his clothes.

He couldn’t be bothered, really. Not in the slightest. Not with Crowley looming over him and looking like that.

He gulped again as Crowley licked his lips and threw him _that_ Look..

_Oh, my._

He tried scrambling back on only his palms and heels.

He was inside the elevator before Crowley could get up from the table and nearly yelled at Eric to close the door.

It was quickly shut with a screech and a thud.

‘What do we try now, mister angel, sir?’

‘Whatever. You try whatever. They are all going to be just as bad, aren’t they?’ Aziraphale asked from down on the floor looking up at a confused Eric.

‘I guess? I mean it was just cakes and all. Didn’t seem that bad for me. Most people down here see visions of blood and guts and dead people and suchlike. That’s just what I heard.’

‘I…yes.’

_Those scenarios. Maybe imagining them would be better for me at the moment._

Eric eyed him dubiously for a moment.

‘You are a weird one, angel, sir.’

Aziraphale was still sitting down on the floor, his suit completely ruined and his morale shattered to bits.

_He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t._

He had thought it easy when they tempted him with books.

He loved books. But not as much as he loved Crowley. He could take all of them. He could. Except the one. He would be completely lost in that one.

He closed his eyes and pressed the heels of his palms over them, inhaling deeply.

‘We could stop, you know? Just stay in the elevator for a bit,’ Eric supplied helpfully, toying with his broken tablet in a fretful way.

‘I…no. _No_. The longer Crowley stays down there the worse it gets for him. And I have already lost entire days. I need to do this. For him.’

Eric nodded and pressed the third button.

The elevator started moving yet again, this time upwards. But directions like up and down or right and left were not something that seemed to make any sense in this maze of a thing.

‘Um. You know…’ Eric offered as he clutched his tablet to his chest. ‘I always liked Crowley. He never yelled at me. Never discorporated me, either. He’s one of the good ones.’

Aziraphale lifted his face from his palms and looked at him. Eric nearly flinched.

‘I know. That’s why it’s extremely important for me to reach him in time. Before God knows what is happening to him down here.’

Eric did flinch this time. Mentions of God were not quite a common occurrence in Hell and it always stung a little.

‘I…I…I guess what I wanted to say is I’m sorry for you. For him. For your loss. It must be nice having someone,’ Eric chanced.

Aziraphale sighed and suddenly found the flickering neon light on the ceiling very interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The flashback is, obviously 1793 Paris post one demonic rescue from the Bastille.


	5. Fraud

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: nothing springs to mind for this chapter

_The rigid justice that chastises me_

_Draweth occasion from the place in which_

_I sinned, to put the more my sighs in flight_

Aziraphale had tried explaining to Eric that they should try and press the buttons in an orderly fashion because there was such a thing as acting proper, Hell or not.

So the second button was being pressed even if the demon didn’t seem that convinced.

This time around the wide hall they arrived in didn’t need any time to rearrange itself according to Aziraphale’s personal inner demons. It looked like someone’s quarters. And they looked quite lived in. And extraordinarily luxurious.

There were mahogany wood panels on the walls, inlaid with brass and several ancient statues that Aziraphale could bet his very soul had disappeared from some very well-known museums. There was one of Zeus and several of Athena and Aziraphale could swear that the golden Nike was the actual original.

‘Told you I’m a fan of the classics,’ he heard a voice greet him with obvious mirth in their tone.

‘Oh, no,’ Eric wailed and tried to become one with the elevator’s walls.

Aziraphale wasn’t going to put up with any kind of intimidation just like that. They had a deal. And that deal meant that no one was to get in his way, not even Lucifer.

So he stepped forward with a little more conviction than he actually felt and started inspecting the room.

Everything in it was a monument to human art and craft.

The statues were exquisite, but so were the paintings. Aziraphale spotted a Veronesse, a Tiziano, two Botticelis and a Leonardo that made fire instantly light up in his eyes.

Crowley had commissioned that painting. That was before he had become such a close friend to the master but was still quite the ardent fan.

He remembered the demon wailing about it for months. How some rich patron had showed up as soon as the picture was finished and paid triple for it. After he had waited for nearly a year for it to be finished.

He recognised it instantly even if he hadn’t ever laid eyes on it. Crowley had described it at length, down to the colours of the apples and the position of each and every one of them. The way the sun shone in one of the corners of the frame just so that you would think some sort of divine presence was there instead of a mere burst of sunlight. The two figures up front that were not exactly what Crowley had requested at the time because he had been met with a shocked gasp and a polite but pointed “no”, but at least they were dark haired instead of fair, so there was that.

That had been a point of pride for Crowley and to see it here, purposefully taken away from him on a whim just like that...well, it made his blood boil.

He remembered suggesting to Crowley to have it recommissioned some months later but by then the demon shrugged like it was nothing and told him he didn’t want it anymore. He had considered it rather odd at the time but now he understood his reasons.

‘Oh, I see you noticed the da Vinci. Fabulous piece, is it not?’ the voice continued on that teasing tone that made Aziraphale want to scream.

He stepped even further into the room past a sleek piano, an exquisite wooden globe that the angel recognised as belonging to the king of Bavaria at some point, another sculpture, this time a Rodin and a perfectly preserved Egyptian sarcophagus.

It was like walking through a museum of personal knick-knacks if those particular knick-knacks were priceless pieces of art.

And then he spotted the two Chesterfield sofas facing each other with the vintage record player playing a mellow jazz vinyl as someone was pouring drinks at the bar that stood just behind the whole setup.

It was Lucifer, because, of course it was. Aziraphale had recognised his voice as soon as he stepped in the room. And even if he wouldn’t have recognised the voice the lounge itself was a dead give-away. 

Far too posh to belong to anyone else in Hell, far too pretentious to be something that Aziraphale would imagine on his own. And that damn painting was there probably to just annoy the living daylight out of him.

He cleared his throat.

Lucifer turned around to face him with a wide smile on his face and two whisky tumblers in his hands.

He extended one to Aziraphale who eyed it for a while before he shook his head.

‘Are you sure? It’s an excellent Macallan. Perfect year too.’

Aziraphale shook his head some more.

‘Suit yourself,’ Lucifer shrugged and poured the contents of one of the glasses over the other as he pointed with said glass towards the two couches.

The angel took a seat but continued to eye Lucifer warily as the demon sat down opposite to him and drank his whisky without a care in the world.

‘Why am I here?’

‘Well, you tell me. I wasn’t the one storming into Hell all high and mighty just a little while ago.’

‘You know what I mean. Here in this room. Whichever possible circle could host your lodgings? Especially since you told me that none of you venture in the lower circles to begin with.’

‘Ah, well, you see, I am growing a little bored with you managing to avoid all of those temptations with flying colours like that. I thought it would be more fun,’ Lucifer pouted for a bit. ‘So I have another deal for you.’

If Aziraphale had been wary up till this point, now all of his internal alarms started beeping loudly.

‘As you can see, I am quite a collector. I enjoy owning rare and priceless pieces,’ he gestured with the whisky glass that threatened to spill.

Indeed, the walls were covered in even more paintings, framed by more statues, the whole space brimming with extraordinary tokens. There were two gilded baroque chandeliers just above them, a glass case was used to display some very expensive crown jewels, another one some Minoan vases, a silk persian rug under the coffee table which seemed to be carved entirely out of ivory, and on the couch, next to him, a Stradivarius was sitting casually, no case, no anything, like it was yesterday’s paper.

‘So I was thinking of making a better deal. Seeing as Crowley is not a rare and priceless possession.’

Aziraphale could agree to at least part of that sentence but he doubted Lucifer meant it that way. He was in no way a possession but he was indeed priceless to him.

‘I was thinking, what with you being an angel and all that you could get your hands on some holy stuff like the Spear of Destiny or the Grail or somesuch.’

‘Why would you possibly want something like that?’

Lucifer waved his hands some more.

‘Adds to the collection, doesn’t it?’

‘Wouldn’t those hurt you, all things considered? What with their holy nature.’

‘I’d just put them in one of those glass thingies. So? Deal?’

‘Even if I’d know where those things are, which, unfortunately I do not, they are not mine to give.’

‘Shroud of Turin? Mandylion? Sudarium of Oviedo? Veil of Veronica? Huh, people are quite taken with dirty pieces of cloth it would seem.’

‘Again, I am very sorry but I can’t steal something that doesn’t belong to me. Something that humanity sets a great deal on. People believe these relics to be important. They base their whole belief system on them. To steal something like that...’

Aziraphale took another look around. Most of the things around them looked stolen. Or if not stolen then at least procured by dubious means. This looked less like a personal collection of a patron of the arts and more like the hoard of a bounty hunter.

‘Huh. Guessed this would have been easier. I seem to have underestimated you.’

Aziraphale kept his expression perfectly composed.

‘What about something of yours then. That wouldn’t involve any stealing or offending your delicate sensibilities.’

‘I...yes. Of course. Although I can’t even begin to presume what possession of mine would compare with anything in your collection.’

The angel had his Regency furniture and his antique desk and even an Empire bed that he secretly hated. He had his snuff boxes and he had two perfectly serviceable Persian rugs. 

He would have said three but the third one was beyond saving, what with Crowley having nearly drilled a hole into it with all of his incessant fussing and circling around. Not to mention the wine stains. If there was anything worse than a demon pacing around all night on your 12th century Persian rug it was that demon also gesturing wildly while holding a glass of red wine. 

‘Oh, I wouldn’t sell your collection so short. I heard you have quite a few interesting books.’

Aziraphale fought back a shudder. _Why did it always have to be books?_

‘Yes. I do indeed.’

‘And one little birdie told me that you have a prized collection of old Bibles. And books of Prophecy.’

_Oh no, this simply would not do. He wouldn’t even know what to do with any of those. He probably wouldn’t even bother opening the covers._

‘Of course. I suppose Nostradamus or Lady Sybilla would be to your liking. Or there is always the Buggre Alle This Bible. I think you’d particularly like that,’ he tried to keep his face as devoid of emotion as he possibly could.

He didn’t want to part with any of those. He had spent such a long time tracking them down, befriending whoever had written them, preserving them and taking care of them. They were such an integral part of himself that he would have preferred walking to Hell and back again rather than give any of them up. And here he was. Hell, but not back again yet. Not until he got Crowley back.

_Of course. He would give one of them up. There was no question about it._

‘So, which one would it be?’ he asked, in an even tone that didn’t betray his inner torments. _Or at least that’s how he hoped he sounded._

‘Oh, darling. Oh, no no. It’s a collection. A collection should always stay together. I want all of them.’

‘All of...’ the angel stammered and this time his face did fall.

Which only seemed to make Lucifer even more chipper.

Aziraphale thought long and hard about his next move. He could always manifest copies of them and present those to Lucifer. _No, he would catch on to that pretty quickly._

He could try and only give him some of them. After all no one knew what his entire collection was. And he had only mentioned three books. _Of course he would have to come up with a number higher than that so as not to raise suspicion but he believed he could try that._

He kept pondering for a while and was interrupted from his train of thought by a sentence he never thought he would hear that would make everything insanely easy.

‘You could always promise me to deliver them once you are both safe home.’

He opened his mouth to answer.

***

_Aziraphale was sore all over._

_He hated riding horses so he had opted for a wagon ride instead. The only problem was that this was not the empire anymore. No one could give a rat’s arse about proper education or architecture, the arts, the literature. Not even about clean water and proper hygiene. So it was rather obvious that no one would care about the state of the roads. Which was abysmal._

_He thanked the driver and offered him a silver coin which was quite a lot more than he would have asked for but the man had been pleasant enough company and it was not his fault that the roads were in such a state._

_Then he produced an apple out of his purse and patted the horse for a bit. The apple was appreciated. It was also not the horse’s fault that humans had woken up one morning and thought “huh, that’s a valid means of transportation”. He had nothing against horses in general if they just stayed there and ate grass off meadows or whatever it was horses wanted to do in their free time and looked pretty. Riding them, though. Not a big fan._

_It was almost dusk when he reached the inn and, even though he had no desire to actually sleep, he very much wanted to lay down on a proper hay mattress for the night after a day of having to feel each and every sharp boulder on the road in all of the bones of his body._

_So his mood was pretty foul when he opened the door only to be greeted by the sound of Crowley’s laughter._

_He hadn’t heard that since Rome, more than a thousand years ago. Not that the memory of it had ever left his mind. Such a warm sound that did something to whatever passed for his heartbeat._

_He was dressed in a knee-length tunic that was all black, of course but bore a carefully embroidered cuff and whatever happened underneath those wide sleeves was dark crimson. He also had woollen thighs that seemed to be impossible to get out of and the pointiest shoes that Aziraphale had ever seen so far._

_All in all he was the complete opposite of the angel._ As he should be _, Aziraphale’s mind provided._

_He was apparently entertaining the gentry in the inn with his tales of valiant pursuits and heroic deeds._

_Aziraphale wanted to roll his eyes but instead he smiled at him with a fond expression on his face. He tried snapping out of it. Especially after how they had left things last time. If anything, Crowley would want nothing to do with him. Perhaps it was for the best._

_He took a seat at the table in the corner, made a show out of blessing the whole inn as he saw the innkeeper give him a funny look that quickly turned into a pleased one and ordered an ale, trying his hardest to sink into the wooden bench itself._

_He didn’t have it in him to try and find a different inn. Not after four days of travelling by cart all the way from Subiaco. If Crowley saw him then so be it. He had no intention of approaching the demon._

_It didn’t even take a moment after his particular train of thought for the demon to rest his eyes on him and grin widely like the cat that got the canary. He made his excuses to the frankly miffed-looking audience he had gathered around him and sauntered Aziraphale’s way._

_‘Angel!’ he intoned loudly and got a wide array of looks, none of them very pleasant._

_‘Shush it, you fiend.’_

_‘Fiend, am I?’_

_‘If you only want to cause me trouble you might as well say so and I will just be off then,’ he snapped back even if he didn’t even want to entertain the prospect of not laying down somewhere comfortable for the night. Open fields had not been to his liking._

_‘I never, angel!’ he declared loudly and seemingly offended, but Aziraphale knew him better than that._

_Another couple of wary looks were thrown their way._

_‘What?’ the demon addressed the small crowd. ‘Oh, yeah, saw the friar over here perform a few minor miracles so I call him angel, what of it?’_

_This seemed to have the opposite effect to what Crowley would have hoped which was to have all of them leave them alone to enjoy the evening._

_More than ten people gathered around and asked to touch Aziraphale’s cloak or be blessed or even kiss his feet. Which put him in an even worse mood than he was already._

_‘Alright, angel, that was completely my fault and it backfired,’ Crowley raised his hands as if to demand forgiveness and then snapped his fingers and all of the men were once again at their own tables, not minding the two of them in the slightest._

_‘Wouldn’t anyone Downstairs notice all of that?’ Aziraphale asked, bewildered._

_‘It’s like I told you all that time ago and I keep telling you - no one actually gives a damn. But you just won’t listen.’_

_‘Well, maybe my lot is just more organised than yours then,’ he retorted, out of any better replies. ‘It’s not that hard to begin with, is it?’_

_But, in all honesty, he wanted to be convinced._ No. _He wanted Crowley to feel like he convinced him or maybe tempted him into it. He was already convinced. Had been for a while now. Ever since Northumbria, more than a century ago._

_Whatever it was that they were doing was completely pointless, both of them being sent on a fool’s errand and cancelling each other out._

_But he could never proposition the demon so he was hoping for another hail Mary from Crowley. Even if he knew how bad that sounded._

_‘Angel. I’m not here to fight. I’m just...I don’t even know why I’m here. Found the name funny. You know, after last time.’_

_‘There was nothing funny about last time!’_

_‘Oh but there was. The face that launched a thousand ships. What a bunch of bollocks,’ Crowley threw his head back and laughed like there was no tomorrow. His mane of unruly crimson curls caught the candlelight and nearly shone._

_Aziraphale gulped._

_‘You know that I was responsible for that bit, angel, don’t you?’_

_‘Of course I know. Why do you think my lot sent me there for damage control?’_

_‘Damage control? I only whispered into a young woman’s ear how much better it would be to get railed against every possible surface on a daily basis instead of once every blue moon when her husband could get it up. On the off chance that he could get it up to begin with. And the rest was history. And poetry now, I suppose. Heh.’_

_‘Crowley!’_

_‘Yes, angel?’_

_‘You are unbearable!’_

_‘And yet here you are.’_

_‘Through no choice of my own. I was sent here on a mission. Seeing as Bugiano is stirring up trouble and has the Pope nearly in a fit, my lot thought it best if I was headed here and investigated matters.’_

_‘By which you mean to say that they heard there was some demonic presence in the area and sent you over here to put a stop to it.’_

_‘Well. Yes. Rather. Not in so many words.’_

_‘How many times do I have to tell you that we could skip all of this. I could be down on the coast. They are doing some amazing things to fish nowadays.’_

_‘I thought you didn’t eat.’_

_‘_ Amazing _things, Aziraphale.’_

_He couldn't help but roll his eyes._

_‘And you could be doing,’ Crowley looked at his Benedictine cloak up and down and gestured vaguely. ‘Whatever it is you are doing. Wearing white despite all of the order wearing black. Blessing the place and thinking I wouldn't notice. All of your good deedssssssssss.’_

_Aziraphale had to admit that both of their influences on the area were completely pointless. The humans did whatever they wanted anyway._

_Not to mention that up so far nothing much had happened this particular year._

_‘Well, I guess you have a point,’ Aziraphale pouted at him and hoped it had the desired effect._

_Judging by Crowley’s frankly obscene smirk it apparently did._

_He thought he had him hooked._

_And he sort of did. But not because of his impeccable temptations. Because, frankly, Crowley wasn’t very good with those. At least not the intentional ones._

_He was very tempting indeed. Had always been. That’s why Aziraphale really wanted to do this. But didn’t want the demon to know._

_But whenever he tried doing an actual temptation, particularly on him he never succeeded. Maybe that was on purpose, even. That was an intriguing thought. An intriguing thought that he most definitely shouldn’t have._

_‘Remember Troy, angel? The proper one, not this load of bollocks.’_

_Aziraphale nodded._

_‘You looked glorious, my dear,’ he whispered and wanted to slap his hand over his mouth in the very next second._

_‘Thank you for noticing, angel. All I ever got out of that whole thing was “what’s with the weird eyes” and “is that a natural colour”,’ he sneered as he twirled a finger around one of his locks. ‘And let me tell you, those hairdos took all day. No wonder women didn’t have any time to actually do stuff.’_

_Crowley had looked a proper sight in Troy in her elegant chiton and peplos and her intricate jewellery. He looked a sight even now in his frankly absurd pointy shoes and tights that could have been a second layer of skin. Crowley was always a sight for sore eyes no matter what he wore._

_Which was why he wanted to spend more time with him. And if that time involved doing actual temptations for the demon, then so be it._

_‘Anyway. What did we achieve then? Some wankers showing off who had the biggest...well, you know....’_

_Aziraphale looked at his ale and fought his hardest not to blush._

_‘They could have been creating stuff. Doing stuff. Living. Raising children or whatever. But instead they were at war. And what did that war ever do in the grand scheme of things? Did you get a commendation out of it?’_

_‘No. They said it took too long.’_

_‘I didn’t either. They said that if she cheated because she was in love it wasn’t a proper temptation. So we both failed. What does that say about us?’_

_‘That we are not terribly competent at our jobs?’_

_‘That we could do better if only one of us was there at the time instead of us thwarting each other like that.’_

_‘Well, I guess you are right.’_

_‘You wot?’_

_‘I think you heard me, my dear....boy.’_

Oh God. Could he crawl under a rock and die there?

_‘I...yes. That. So what you’re saying is that you agree with me.’_

_‘Mhm,’ Aziraphale tried to nod his head while at the same time not looking at Crowley in a manner oddly reminiscent of Mesopotamia._

_‘Shake on it, angel?’_

_Aziraphale extended his hand while still avoiding Crowley’s gaze and shook his hand for something like a second or so before taking his hand back and fleeing the inn altogether._

_Sleeping on the side of the road didn’t seem like such a bad idea now._

_He had lied._

Well, he hadn’t lied. And yet, he did.

_He had wanted to shake hands with Crowley and adopt this new thing that Crowley had taken to calling “the Arrangement” for years now. Almost a full century. But instead of saying exactly that and just committing to it he had relied on subterfuge and lied and acted like he was “being tempted”._

_It would be years later, centuries even, when Crowley would broach the subject again._

_‘You know you shouldn’t have lied to me all that time ago. You could have just said that you needed more time. Or that you actually wanted to do it.’_

_‘What do you mean?’_

_‘The Arrangement. It was the most boring year known to man and yet you agreed on the thing. There was nothing to make you agree to it. I wasn't trying to influence you either way. And yet you still did it. And had me convinced for a long long while that it was all my doing. Not very angelic of you.’_

_‘Well...I...’_

_‘I don’t want to hear an explanation, Aziraphale. I never did. I was the one who proposed the thing in the first place. I just want you to stop lying, if possible. And, if not, then at least consider the fact that demons can sense that.’_

***

Demons could sense that. There was no possible way out of it. _Well then…_

‘I couldn’t possibly do that. That is far too much trust put in me. And I would probably go back on my promise once I was safe and sound back on Earth. So, here,’ he snapped his fingers and more than twenty volumes were deposited on every flat surface Aziraphale deemed fit to place a book upon.

He needed to give them up. _Alright then. He would. He would do anything for Crowley._

‘Now. You mentioned something about a deal?’ Aziraphale smiled a hopeful yet nostalgic smile. It would take a while for him to get to grips with giving up his whole collection of most prized possessions like that.

‘Oh, darling. And I thought you were quite the avid reader,’ Lucifer laughed out loud and downed the last of his whisky.

He got up from the couch, placed his empty glass on the coffee table and approached Aziraphale, taking his hands in his own.

‘You must have known. Deep down. You must have. I’m sorry, darling, but this is just a hallucination.’

And as soon as Lucifer clapped his hands over his with the most predatory smile Aziraphale had ever witnessed everything around him was gone. Even the couch that he had been sitting on, making him topple backwards and onto the hard and cold slabs of the floor.

He drew in a deep breath and then another. And then he punched one of the slabs so hard that it broke into a thousand little fragments.

  


[full size](https://www.rainydaypaperback.com/media/files/AO3/flame/punch.png)

When he reached the elevator Eric was sitting in a corner and shivering as if he had been left in the cold for the last ten hours.

Aziraphale assumed it wasn’t because of him but because he had had to experience the boss, or an approximation of the boss for the last twenty minutes.

‘Next one, then?’ he tried to put up an encouraging front even if he didn’t know if he lost his books forever or not.

‘Next...next...yes. Next one,’ Eric tried to fiddle with the tablet some more before actually pushing any buttons.

‘Eric?’

‘Yes, mister angel?’

‘Which one was this?’

This at least gave him something to do as he struggled with the tablet and made his mind stop focusing on the big boss that he had just seen for the second time in less than twenty-four hours in the last five hundred years.

‘It was Fraud, mister angel, sir.’

‘I thought as much. Press the next one then.’

Eric nodded and was about to press the seventh button before he noticed Aziraphale’s put out expression.

He nodded rapidly and hit number three.

He had no idea what precisely he had done wrong other than exist to be placed on this roller coaster of emotions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The history scene is the actual Arrangement in 1020.  
> Or, to be more precise the time after the Byzantine catapan of Italy at the time, Basil Boioannes (called Bugiano by the Italians) fortified his claim on the Catepanate in the south of Italy making the Pope and the Holy Roman Emperor a bit wary of the Byzantine influence in the area. He also built a fortress called Troia to guard the entrance to the Apulian plain.  
> It was a year in which nothing much happened. And I mean it. Nothing did. What exactly were Neil and Terry thinking? That was the least impressive year of all times.


	6. Wrath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, this is going to be a loaded one.
> 
> CW: angel true form, an unseemly amount of eyes, and heads come to think of it, violence, torture, death, major character death (but it's still just a hallucination), major character discorporation, temporary discorporation, suicidal thoughts, blaspheming (but that's just for the notes at the end)
> 
> Oh, and also, I am starting to bring in The Sad. Which is like the No. 1 CW that you should take into account.

_All of them naked and with angry look._

_They smote each other not alone with hands,_

_But with the head and with the breast and feet,_

_Tearing each other piecemeal with their teeth._

****

‘Which one is this?’ Aziraphale asked, a little bit curious.

‘Greed. Um, no, we already did that. It’s um...Wrath.’

Aziraphale calmed himself down since he knew he never had a violent bone in his body, because if there was one thing Aziraphale was particularly good at it was lying to himself.

Eric, especially after seeing what had happened earlier in the lobby, was rather dreading this bit in particular.

He tried to keep as far back as possible for fear of being coated in blood, head to toes.

Aziraphale straightened his shoulders and entered the hall with a determined expression on his face, still a monument of calm.

He became less and less calm as he approached the scene and he started hearing Crowley’s screams.

He was clearly in danger.

He heard another scream and made his way towards the source of the noise.

It was Gabriel holding a sword that he placed over Crowley’s wings every now and again to Crowley’s complete chagrin. It was obviously a heavenly weapon as it left angry red marks in its wake despite not being properly lit up.

The demon cried out each and every time, by now screaming on the top of his lungs.

Gabriel had a hand buried deep into one of Crowley’s wings and was pulling harshly at it.

Crowley’s face was contorted and it was obvious that he was in quite a lot of pain.

Eric flinched just as the Angel decided this was the right moment to start shining brighter than the light of day. His eyes shone like the heart of a dying star and his flaming sword was in his hand yet again.

 _Oh boy, here we go_ , thought Eric.

Gabriel pressed his shoe on Crowley’s spine and gave the wing in his grasp another hard tug with a very satisfied expression on his face.

Aziraphale saw fit to manifest his thousands of eyes and all of the rings of fire he could summon.

Eric winced and squatted on the elevator floor, tablet raised protectively over his head.

‘How does that feel, you despicable demon? Consorting with the enemy? Trying to corrupt one of the angels of the Lord? Feels good, doesn’t it?’

Crowley started openly sobbing and begging for his life.

Then he spotted Aziraphale who stood as still as a statue in the middle of the room and tried his best to reign everything in.

‘Angel, angel please! Please. I don’t want to die. I don’t want this. Angel, please!’

Gabriel grabbed his chin and made him really take Aziraphale in.

‘Look at him. Properly look. He can’t help you. Nobody can. You did this to yourself you vile wretched thing. You are pathetic.’

He then pushed him over with one of his feet, forcing Crowley to fall down on the floor, hand still extended towards Aziraphale.

‘Please, angel, I’m begging you.’

Aziraphale bit down on his tongue while mentally repeating to himself.

_This is just a hallucination. It’s not real. None of this is. This is catered specifically to you. Don’t be weak. Don’t give in. Real Crowley is somewhere around here and he might be actually hurt. Do it for him. Be steadfast._

But then Gabriel brought down his sword on one of Crowley’s wings and sliced it clean off.

All the previous thoughts gone, Aziraphale manifested all of his own wings.

‘Well well, Aziraphale,’ Gabriel smiled a sleazy smile and sheathed his sword before clapping his hands together as if this was a long term family reunion of some sort.

‘Aren’t you glad to be here? Came for the show, didn’t you? Well, it is going to be one for the books, let me tell you that. I am going to make sure it is. I have prepared it especially for you, after all.’

The next thing he knew, the other wing was cut clean off and Crowley wailed in such a heartbreaking way that Aziraphale didn’t think he could take it anymore.

He fell down to his knees and tried his best not to sob too.

‘And now, for the grand finale,’ Gabriel announced on too happy a tone as he dragged Crowley up grabbing his long locks and paused, to make sure Aziraphale was properly looking at them.

And then he sliced his throat.

Aziraphale put a hand on his own throat and then started sobbing openly, without caring about anything else, anymore.

Gabriel pushed Crowley’s limp body aside as if it was nothing.

_All he ever wanted was to crush Gabriel. Grab him by his throat and bash his head against a wall until it was nothing but mush. Or slice him clean open with his flaming sword. Or anything, really._

But there Crowley was, splayed limply on the floor and covered in blood. He fought back against all his basic instincts that demanded a quick and thorough retribution and dashed for Crowley’s body, managing to put back all of the eyes, the rings of fire and the extra wings.

He cradled his head in his arms and gently caressed his curls.

***

_The streets were ablaze. Or at least that’s what it looked like._

_No, that was a poor way of describing it. Everything was ablaze._

_Aziraphale knew for sure that he had sensed Crowley around earlier on and he also knew for a fact what was happening at this very moment. He had tried to dissuade those silly, silly men on many an occasion and had tried appealing to their common sense on even more occasions than that. But you could never underestimate the power of stupid people in large groups._

_What he also knew was where Crowley’s loyalties lay and that was what had him all worked up to the point that he nearly drove himself mad._

_The shrieks and metal clatter all around were completely lost on him as he stood perfectly still in the middle of the carnage trying his best to concentrate on finding out where Crowley was._

_What was he even thinking, siding with the Huguenots to begin with? He knew as well as everyone else that was a dangerous thing to be at the moment. Probably more than everyone else since he was nearly certain that Crowley was at least partially responsible for this whole mess. No God-loving good Christian would even consider doing something like this. There had to be some demonic intervention to have gotten the ball rolling._

_And since he had so sneakily infiltrated the court and became such a good friend of good ole’ Henry he was surely involved in this vile plot._

_Aziraphale didn’t stop to consider that that would have been against the demon’s interests as he knew that he often started his mischievous plots without thinking how they might affect him. Although this one was rather obvious._

_He sensed the demon’s essence rather close by and he hurried in that direction only to be stopped by a gang of young looking fellows, somewhere in their mid twenties blocking his way._

_‘And where might you be going at this time of night?’ one of them drawled while making a show out of cleaning the blood on his rapier on a piece of cloth. He was obviously the self-declared leader of the group and very obviously as daft as a brick._ That was not very angelic of him _, Aziraphale knew, but he didn’t have any time for this nonsense._

_‘Get out of my way, kind sir. I am in quite a rush and have no business with you gentlemen.’_

_‘No business, eh? Do you have any business being out this late?’_

_‘Well, do you?’_

_The self anointed leader turned to his crew with a raised eyebrow and a too-smug-for-his-own-good expression on his face._

_‘Up in the middle of the night. No weapon or anything. One might even think you are one of them filthy protestants. The way I see it you might as well be, wandering around like that. Is that Spanish silk?’_

_It was indeed but only because Aziraphale thought it fashionable and not because he wanted to kiss the future king’s arse, like someone else he knew and really needed to find out like NOW._

_‘I really don’t have time for this,’ Aziraphale sighed and snapped his fingers._

_The whole group disappeared._

_‘I really hope I didn’t send them somewhere unpleasant,’ Aziraphale whispered to himself, knowing in his heart of hearts that that was a blatant lie._

_He snapped his fingers again and he was now clad in a friar’s garb. He would surely miss his elegant embroidered cloak and the silk shoes but he couldn’t afford any more delays and this was just the quickest option he could think of. He needed to get Crowley out of the city now. The damn fool was far too well known as being a part of Henry’s dratted inner circle to be able to get out of this mess any other way._

_He passed several more streets on which fires were being lit and people were being butchered and he sent a blessing and a prayer their way to facilitate their way into Heaven. Anything else was a bit too much even for him._

_He couldn’t miracle all of these people to safety and he couldn't miracle the blasted Catholics to reconsider._

_He nearly bumped into someone as he turned the corner into rue de la Harpe but that wasn’t what had him still completely on the spot._

_It was the sight before him._

_Crowley was, for want of a better word, sparring with someone. It didn’t help that Crowley wielded a sword with the same tenacity of a...well, of a snake. And a very inept one, at that._

_He was spectacularly nimble though and dodged all of his opponent’s swings with amazing grace._

_That is to say until he spotted Aziraphale and a small smile started forming on his lips for the briefest of seconds._

_Unfortunately for him a second of being distracted was all it took for his opponent to seize his opportunity and run his sword clean through the demon._

_‘NO!’ Aziraphale called out and it came out more like a strangled cry._

_Crowley’s sunglasses had slipped down his nose and his eyes were fully yellow. The look of utter shock on his face matched the one of his assailant as he noticed the serpentine quality they had._

_If that didn’t scare him half to death then Aziraphale’s cry did so he pulled his sword back and scampered off as soon as possible._

_‘Crowley!’ Aziraphale called out as he darted towards the demon who was now clutching at his stomach with one hand and trying to grab a pillar for support with the other._

_He didn’t succeed in staying upright for long, sliding down the pillar of the colonnade, back pressed to it like it was his only lifeline._

_‘Crowley, my dear boy, are you alright?’ Aziraphale was now by his side on hands and knees and struggling his hardest not to touch him._

_Crowley raised his eyebrow at him and did his most impressive eye roll Aziraphale had ever witnessed thus far. The general effect was slightly spoiled by the demon coughing up blood the very next second._

_‘Am I alright? I’ve just been stabbed. What do you bloody think?’ he said in between coughs, not wanting to give up on his sarcastic quips, not even at a time like this._

_‘My d...Crowley, can’t you heal yourself?’_

_This time he didn’t refrain himself from touching anymore and gently took the demon’s hand away from the injury, placing one of his hands over it instead._

_‘Demons can’t heal, angel.’_

_‘I could do it then. I...I think,’ he stammered as he tried placing his other hand over the wound as well only to be swatted away by a petrified looking Crowley._

_‘Are you demented? Do you want to get into trouble? Those feathery fucks check all the miracle logs nowadays you said.’_

_His violent reaction made him double over in pain and have a coughing fit._

_‘Yes but I can’t simply let you...let you...’ Aziraphale turned his face away, eyes brimming with tears, as he didn’t want his natural opponent turned best friend to ever see him like this._

_‘Just a little...a lil’ discorporation...angel,’ Crowley was starting to wheeze and, despite his best attempts, the cavalier look he wanted to portray was lost on both of them. He grabbed one of Aziraphale’s hands and gave a reassuring squeeze._

_Aziraphale tried to look anywhere but at their clasping hands and his eyes landed on Crowley’s own sword thrown haphazardly a foot away. He then lifted his eyes in the direction that the young man had fled in._

_‘Aziraphale what are you doing?’ Crowley managed, no louder than a whisper._

_The angel gripped the handle and only then looked at Crowley with steel in his eyes, tears cascading down his face but a new found resolve in his expression._

_‘No, angel, please, please don’t do that.’_

_‘That man stabbed you. I will only return the favour.’_

_Crowley looked up at him with pleading eyes and took the angel’s other hand into both of his, placing it over his own chest and away from the stab wound._

_His tunic was completely drenched in blood by now and so was the collar of his shirt, his chin and neck dripping with it._

_‘You’ll never forgive yourself. I know you won’t. Please. Please leave it be. It’s just a little discorporation. How bad can it be? I’ll be topwise again before you know it.’_

_Neither of them knew it at this point but it would take him more than fifty years and a lot of registering form 4973C over and over and over again only to be told that they were somehow miraculously misplaced each and every time he went to the Allotment Department to inquire about how much longer it was going to take to get his corporation back. Two hundred and seventy three, to be precise. But that was for later._

_Aziraphale’s face went through a series of expressions, from steely-eyed determination to downright anger to incessant worry._

_‘Could you just stay here with me?’ Crowley finally said and if Aziraphale hadn’t been paying him attention he might have missed the words altogether, spoken so quietly and in such a meek tone that they would have been impossible to hear by anyone else._

_Then Aziraphale’s face decided to focus on a last expression and stay there - that of impossible softness._

_‘Of course, my dear. Whatever you need.’_

_‘Just promise me you won’t go after that bugger. We all know where he’ll be ending up anyway,’ Crowley tried to chuckle but spat out some more blood instead on Aziraphale’s perfect light grey robes._

_‘ ‘m sorry, angel. You know out of all the things they told us about getting yourself discorporated they never said anything about it hurting so much.’_

_‘I could try to miracle the pain away, my -’_

_He was stopped by Crowley vehemently shaking his head at him._

_‘No miracles. Just stay.’_

_‘Of course I will,’ Aziraphale placed the sword down._

_Aziraphale’s cheeks were streaked with tears by now, flowing down freely as he tried to squeeze the demon’s hand reassuringly. He had no idea what he was reassuring him about. They both knew he had maybe minutes left, but possibly even less than that._

_‘ ‘m cold. ‘m I supposed to be cold?’_

_Aziraphale wanted to scream at the universe. But instead he drew closer and tried to cup Crowley’s cheeks._

_The demon sighed deeply and leaned forward, forehead resting on the angel’s shoulder and hands gently trying to smooth whatever non existing creases he had on his clerical garb._

_‘This is better. Feels nice,’ he managed to say as he coughed even more blood on Aziraphale’s clothes._

_‘Whatever you need, my dear. Just tell me.’_

_‘I want you to tell me you are not going to do anything stupid.’_

_‘What?’_

_‘I can sense sin, angel. The seven big ones. Tell me you aren’t going to go after that sod.’_

_‘I’m not,’ Aziraphale said but averted his gaze._

_This was far too close. Far too intimate. Far too_ real _._

_‘Angel,’ Crowley said as he grabbed at the cloth of the angel’s robe._

_Aziraphale threw him a side glance and was met by unguarded and pleading eyes._

_‘I need you to promise me. You need to do good in this wretched world otherwise, what is the point? You need to protect, not to vindicate. You are all that is good...all that is pure...you need to promise me, please...’_

_He tried averting his gaze yet again for a moment while he mumbled a string of half-formed nonsense._

_At some point the vice grip on his robe loosened and he felt Crowley’s hand fall into his lap._

_He turned his gaze back to him and even if he was looking into eyes that were apparently looking back they were completely still and lifeless._

_Aziraphale bit the inside of his cheek so hard that it started bleeding._

_He buried his hands in Crowley’s long locks and cradled his body close to his while sobbing inconsolably the entire time._

_‘I promise. I promise. I promise you,’ he repeated like a mantra over and over again. ‘Anything you want. Anything you ask of me._ Always _.’_

_He spent the entire night with Crowley’s limp body in his arms, rocking them both back and forth slightly and whispering sweet nothings into his curls. All the things he had always wanted to tell him but had never been able to do until now._

_He knew that this was not permanent but it might as well have been because this was the first time that Aziraphale actually pictured spending the rest of eternity without Crowley._

_The mere thought broke his heart completely and he really didn’t believe that he could ever cope with that if it were to happen for real._

_He was thinking that if that ever happened he might as well stroll into Hell and ask them to just burn him in Hellfire and be done with it because nothing would make any sense anymore._

_It was the first time that he realised what incredible danger he was putting Crowley in merely by associating with him. They would have to stay apart from now whenever they were to meet. A casual get together every hundred years. Maybe a missive or two. Maybe even some minor temptations done for the Arrangement but he could never let himself act like this again._

_He was by now fully hugging Crowley’s still frame, arms encircling his thin waist and face buried in the crook of his neck, sobbing loudly for all to hear. He would never be able to do this ever again. To touch like this. To whisper endearments into his ear. To stroke his wonderful hair and place reverent kisses on his forehead._

_He had known from the very beginning that this thing they had was doomed to failure but he had never before realised what it would mean to him to lose Crowley._

_It would be like losing a part of himself. Like never being whole again. Like having his heart ripped from his chest and crushed into a million pieces._

_He must have stayed for hours in the plaza as the mayhem happened around them, clouded by a never-mind-me miracle._

_All he ever wanted to do was go full avenging angel on the waste of space that had dared even touch Crowley. And yet, even with this corporation’s final words, Crowley had made him promise not to do that because he knew what an enormous amount of guilt he would feel afterwards._

_He thought about that and felt new tears clouding his eyes. He didn’t even think he had any more tears to shed._

_As dawn came and went the miracle was harder and harder to keep in place so he picked Crowley up with too much ease. Oh, God Almighty, he was as thin as a leaf. And he carried him back to his humble abode where he miracled his clothes perfect again, combed his hair and washed the blood off his face and neck before deciding on the best place to bury him. Because he fully intended to give him a proper burial, even if it wasn’t in a church yard._

_He knew this was just a randomly assigned corporation and not his demonic essence and now that that was back in Hell it wouldn’t have hurt the demon, but it just didn’t feel right. He would never superimpose his own beliefs onto the demon that he...well...that he loved with all of his heart. That he wanted to spend the rest of existence cherishing and never letting go but it was precisely for that reason that he absolutely needed not to do that._

_He would give him a proper burial, though. Crowley had always loved that place by the coast. He had always talked about it. About the cold ocean breeze and that old linden tree just on the hilltop. He had lived there for a time forever ago and Aziraphale remembered him being happy. Or as happy as he had ever seen him being. Which wasn’t saying much for a demon. But he seemed to have cared for that place._

_They would go there. Aziraphale was going to get a proper carriage and everything. He was going to dig the grave himself. Bare handed even, if it was the last thing he did._

_He ended up doing exactly that. On a windy pier. On a cloudy and misty Tuesday afternoon._

_He was the only one there._

_It wasn’t like there was any need for anyone else. Demons didn’t enjoy rituals like these. They probably would have been alright with being left by the side of the road._

_But Aziraphale couldn’t do this to him. To them._

_He looked down at the flowers and realised this was also the metaphorical burial of whatever it was that he had wanted to have with the demon up until now. This was it. This was the end._

_Aziraphale had never in his life worn black but he thought it fitting for this particular occasion._

_The waves crashed against the stones on the shore and that was the only sound for miles on end._

_He had made sure that no one would discover his demon. Not now. Not ever._

_He could have been sitting down on his knees, grabbing the flowers desperately._

_He could have yelled at the universe._

_He could have sobbed and begged._

_But somehow, his figure, standing impassible against the grey skies and never saying anything was a million times sadder._

_He spent the oncoming month completely immobile , keeping vigil._

  


[full size](https://www.rainydaypaperback.com/media/files/AO3/flame/linden.png)

***

Aziraphale covered both of them inside a cocoon of white wings and cried like there was no tomorrow. All he could think about was that moment from the sixteenth century. All he could see in front of his eyes were Crowley’s still and expressionless eyes. He mercifully had them closed right now, but it didn’t matter. Those eyes had plagued his nightmares for many a night. It had made what little sleeping he had indulged in very difficult so eventually he gave up on it completely.

He could faintly hear Gabriel’s voice taunting him but he really didn’t give a shit. The world could explode around him this very moment and still, he wouldn’t care.

He couldn’t feel the small shiver he felt whenever he touched Crowley. The sound of static. The sheer rightness of it as if his hand was designed to clasp the demon’s for all of eternity. It felt like Crowley was truly gone from the world.

_This was an actual possibility, wasn't it. To actually find Crowley dead?_

It couldn’t bear thinking.

He remembered France once again and how it had wrecked him completely. He could not go through this again. He was going through it right now, but he knew it wasn’t real. It wasn’t. It couldn’t be. That would destroy him completely. Utterly ruin him.

He would have no other reason to live, he realised as he started wishing he would be engulfed in Hellfire yet again.

‘Liked the show, Aziraphale? Made it for you special. I thought you might enjoy it.’

Aziraphale gently caressed Crowley’s cheeks that were now wet from the angel’s own tears, pressing fervent, desperate kisses on them in between desperate love confessions.

 _No, it wouldn’t be like this. He wouldn’t be dead._ Aziraphale had come all the way down here to save him and save him he would.

_He wouldn’t give up on this. On Crowley._

_He would_ never _give up on Crowley._

He placed the softest of kisses on Crowley’s lips before he opened his eyes again and pulled back his wings to the pocket dimension in which they usually resided.

It was like Crowley had told him all of those years ago. He was an angel. He had to save, not destroy. He thought back to what had happened in the lobby and fought back a shudder. He had no idea what had made him do that but hearing Crowley’s voice even if it was just in his memories alone made his resolve steadfast. Crowley had always had that effect on him whether he knew it or not.

Gabriel was still staring at him with that shit eating grin but he wouldn’t give in.

Not this time. He knew there was an actual demon somewhere down here that was most probably hurting right now. _His_ demon. He wouldn’t give in to his stupid view of what vindication meant and forget what actually mattered.

_No. He was stronger than that._

He placed Crowley’s body down on the floor, as gentle as anything and then he got to his feet and sheathed his sword.

‘Oh, come on, you don’t wanna play?’ Gabriel faux pouted. ‘What about this? What about if I played for a while with your precious little toy?’

He pointed his own sword at Crowley and started laughing.

Aziraphale closed his eyes and started walking towards the elevator, drawing long, self reassuring breaths all the while. He hated leaving Crowley’s corporation over there even if it was just a hallucination.

‘Could carve him right up good and proper, I could,’ Gabriel called after him in a sing-song voice that sounded ever so amused.

Aziraphale just kept going.

_This was not real. None of it was._

Crowley actually discorporating in his arms had been real. And what had the demon said? ‘ _Please don’t do this. You’re better than this.’_

He needed to focus. He had to stay on target.

_Crowley. That was what was important right now, real life Crowley who was somewhere around here and hurting._

He really needed to focus.

‘He _is_ a pretty thing, isn’t he? What if I bring him back to life and then turn him into my own personal toy? How would you feel about that, Aziraphale?’

Aziraphale bit his tongue and dug his fingertips into the heels of his palms and kept moving forwards towards the elevator.

Eric was looking at him as if he had seen a ghost or as if Aziraphale had just grown three extra heads and he couldn’t blame the demon, not about that last part, anyway. The display he had put on earlier sure was the stuff of cosmic nightmares.

‘Close the door,’ he told the demon as ‘You really don’t want to stay for the encore?’’ was heard from the hall. ‘I can dress him up really nice for you. And then who knows what would happen, eh?’

‘Now,’ he added in a very calm and steady tone that warned Eric of absolutely nothing good.

‘Yessir, mister angel, sir,’ he gulped and pulled at the rusty scissor gates.

‘Which…um…which…that is to say…which button do I push next.’

Aziraphale opened his eyes and they shone with the light of thousands of constellations once more. It was obvious to anyone that he was on the verge of snapping.

Eric drew a step backwards.

‘Does it matter?’ he nearly choked as he asked his question.

Eric supposed it didn’t. Clearly all of these temptations were just as bad for the angel.

Ne nodded and pressed the fourth button.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The history titbit I am referencing is the St. Bartholomew's Day Massacre in 1572 when our good and God-fearing Catholic friends thought it was a good idea to murder a couple of innocent people just for sports. As they do. Namely the Huguenots (this time around).
> 
> I am in no way making fun of the whole thing or taking the situation lightly - this was a despicable act, like all of the similar acts done in the name of people's imaginary friends of their own choosing - this is just the way I express opinions, being a sarcastic little bee who only runs on hating stuff. Religion mostly, but there's other stuff too.


	7. Violence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: self esteem issues, brief suicidal thoughts, vision Crowley being absolutely horrid (for which I am extremely sorry)

_My spirit, in disdainful exultation,_

_Thinking by dying to escape disdain,_

_Made me unjust against myself, the just._

Eric had enough common sense to stand very quietly in one corner of the elevator, trying to look as still as a statue. It might have also been just pure self-preservation instincts. He had developed those some time ago. Needs must, especially when you were being thought of as Disposable Demon no.1 to 300 more than half the time.

And he had seen what had happened in the last circle.

He hadn’t understood why some of the temptations were affecting Aziraphale quite so much. The restaurant one had been weird to witness and he had no idea what to think about the books in either scenario. They were just books. Why did they matter so much?

But the last one had been truly horrid. It had messed him up a bit as well. So he didn’t even want to imagine what was going through the angel’s head at the moment.

They all knew that the angel loved Crowley. Had known since soon after the Apocalypse. Beelzebub had ordered a full investigation after that bathtub scene since they wanted to know of any possible weaknesses in case Crowley did want to come back at some point after a change of heart and do whatever it was that he had threatened them with.

So when they had brought them the files from Dagon’s office, Beelzebub had studied them quietly for a very long time before summoning the Dark Council and telling them they absolutely did not want to mess with this one.

Not only was he impervious to Holy Water but he also had an angel in his corner. 

They all remembered the Fall so they remembered what avenging angels looked like. So Beelzebub’s reaction up in the Lobby was more than warranted.

Angels by and wide were to be feared. Angels on a quest to save their love even more so.

Eric liked Crowley, always had. So watching that scene had been brutal.

Aziraphale was also as still as a statue but Eric mused it was for entirely different reasons.

At some point he lifted one of his hands and wiped away the tears on his cheeks but when the elevator finally stopped with a loud and disruptive ping, the demon could see that his eyes were still brimming with unshed ones.

‘Which one is it?’ the angel asked in a small, quiet voice.

‘This is, wait a second. It’s violence.’

Aziraphale hummed in acknowledgement, drew in a deep breath and stepped out of the elevator, eyes closed.

He seemed subdued and unsure of what he was supposed to be doing. He frankly looked like a lamb in a slaughterhouse.

The air wrapped around him in colourful swirls at first that quickly turned to bright reds and then deep crimsons, ending in something that looked like old and dried blood.

Eric shivered. _This was not going to get any better, was it?_

The air changed yet again and suddenly they were in a park at dusk. _And...was that a bandstand?_ Eric pondered.

Aziraphale opened his eyes and gasped.

‘No...’ he said, shaking his head. 

‘No, is it?’ Crowley’s voice could be heard from somewhere behind him. He could recognise that voice anywhere but not that tone. Never that tone. Cold, calculating and just short of disdainful.

He turned around to see the demon standing with his hands crossed over his chest and back against a pillar. But he wasn’t still for long. He pushed himself upright and started approaching Aziraphale.

‘No. Of course you wouldn’t want to revisit your mistakes. Who wants that, eh, “angel”?’

The “angel” was nearly spat at him and Aziraphale felt like someone had buried a dagger deep into his heart.

‘But, guess what, “angel”? You are going to sit here and you are going to listen to each and every one. Because you deserve to know. No. Not deserve. You don’t deserve anything.’

Crowley was walking around him in circles like he often did, although now it seemed like he had a far more predatory air about him.

‘Did it feel alright to just leave me lying there on the floor at Gabriel’s mercy?’

‘That was....you are...it’s all a hallucination.’

‘Keep telling yourself that. Was it a hallucination when you let me die in Paris without doing anything to save me?’

‘You said -’

‘Never even thought of going through with healing a demon, did you? You jumped at the occasion the minute I gave you an out.’

‘That’s not t-’

‘I wasn’t finished! I am good enough to save you countless times but you couldn't even be bothered with a small spot of healing. Fifty years it took me to get back. You probably didn’t even give a shit.’

‘That’s not true, Crowley, you know it isn’t! I missed you so much.’

The demon wasn’t even paying him any attention.

‘Or was it a hallucination when I nearly drowned saving those kids while you were spewing bullshit about the Ineffable Plan? I bet you felt mighty and righteous right then looking at children dying.’

‘Crowley, I… you have to understand -’

‘Oh, do I? _I_ have to understand. Why do _I_ always have to do things for _you_ , Aziraphale? Tell me this - do I have to understand that you lied to me about the Antichrist and decided to side with your feathery buddies like you always do?’

‘I told you that -’

‘Or do I need to understand that you told me no not once but twice? Hell, that isn’t it, is it? You told me no countless times. I asked and I asked and you kept saying no, over and over. I poured my heart out. I saved you countless times. I would have sacrificed everything for you. But I am the one that has to understand stuff. Now I want _you_ to understand _this_. I asked you to run away with me. And what did you do? You told me we weren’t even friends. Well, guess what? Mission accomplished.’

‘No, Crowley, please -’

‘And you know what the best part is? I actually told you that Hell was after me the second time around. I thought that you would at least care if I was completely annihilated, but I guess I thought wrong. Couldn’t even care about that.’

‘I did! I did care, please, my dear, please believe me! I only wanted to keep you safe and tried to do what I thought best at the time.’

‘I don’t think you’re worthy enough to call me “my dear”. Not after what you did. Not ever again.’

Aziraphale bit his lip and looked down at the ground. He couldn’t meet Crowley’s eyes. 

‘You’re right,’ he whispered after what felt like eternity. ‘I don’t deserve you at all.’

‘No. You don’t.’

Aziraphale had always known this but to hear it coming from Crowley was a brand new form of torture.

‘You never have. Not once. Not in Pompeii, not in Constantinople, definitely not in Florence. And yet I still cared. I tried my hardest, Aziraphale. And all you did was push me away. Make me feel low and despicable and unworthy. I hope you are very pleased with yourself.’

‘I’m not, Crowley, I’m really not. I could never forgive myself for how I treated you.’

‘Forgive? Who said anything about forgive? Because you won’t get any forgiveness from me.’

‘Then anything, Anything I could do. Say it and I’ll do it.’

‘Maybe put that sword of yours to some good use, finally. Not like you ever did a lot with it. Saved anyone with it. Oh, right. You gave it away. Apparently even that was too much responsibility for you to have. How could I ever think that you would have it in you to ever do the right thing is beyond me.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘What do you think I mean? Do the right thing for once and end this miserable charade.’

Aziraphale took the sword out of its scabbard and looked at it for a very long minute. Everything Crowley was telling him was true. He had always been a weak, unworthy angel. He never deserved Crowley to begin with. How had the demon even put up with him for so long? It was only natural for him to finally see him for who he was. And to finally tell him off.

What had Lucifer said about getting Crowley to come back upstairs with him? Not that it much mattered. A life in which Crowley despised him was no life at all.

He inspected the sword some more and with a swish of his hand lit it on fire.

Crowley sneered at him as he pressed the tip close to his heart. He looked like he couldn’t care less.

***

_It was a month or so after Armageddon. Everything was peaceful and right in every possible way._

_The light in the bookshop was dim but in a pleasant and intimate way that spoke of lazy evenings spent around the coffee table in the backroom. It spoke of cosiness and companionship and Aziraphale basked in the feeling._

_In the background his gramophone was playing one of his old records. Or, what had at some point been one of his old records, then decided on being what he could only refer to as bebop and then, after a very dramatic roll of eyes combined with a sigh and a snap of fingers, courtesy of one demon, changed into instrumental Cafe de Paris._

_Crowley was sprawled on the couch and was waving his glass of wine around, having already spilled more than half of its contents on the rug._

_Aziraphale had tried to mimic some feigned annoyance but he hadn’t been very convincing, not even to himself._

_It wasn’t as if that rug hadn’t been met with the evidence of Crowley’s alcohol consumption and penchant for arm waving before._

_Aziraphale always tutted at him and then miracled it clean after the demon left._

_He would always know the stains were there but he didn’t care. They were a sign that Crowley had been there. As a sign of his presence being an indisputable part of the bookshop. And only for him to know, which was even better._

_He was now throwing sneaky glances at the demon from over the rim of his own wine glass and trying his hardest not to smile like a besotted fool._

_Crowley was going on about something or other. Panda bears, Aziraphale believed._

_‘...and anyway, those lazy fucks couldn’t even be bothered to do anything other than eat all day. And they’re not even eating sustainable stuff. They literally have to eat all day to get the proper nutrients. Ain’t that daft?’_

_Aziraphale could not believe how lucky he was to be able to witness Crowley so relaxed and at ease and on his couch and all he wanted to do was reach out and grab his hand._

_‘...anyway, could you imagine not having panda bears? That’d be such a waste. I mean they are absolutely ridiculous...but really funny, though. Remind me to show you a Youtube video later with some of them falling off their arses and rolling over. So I guess, what I was trying to say was, there’d be no more panda bears on Alpha Centauri. So basically, thank you for that. Couldn’t imagine life without...panda bears.’_

_Aziraphale snapped out of whatever rose coloured glasses picture of what their future might be like and focused on what was happening in the present._

_Crowley was trying to tell him something. It was definitely not about pandas. But he was also mentioning one of the lowest points in the angel’s life._

_He placed his wine glass down on the coffee table as gently as he possibly could considering the fact that his hands had started trembling out of their own accord._

_Crowley was looking at him with a hopeful expression on his face and even a shy hint of a smile. Aziraphale couldn’t look back at him. Not when he was being this open and especially not when he was bringing that up._

_‘I’m sorry,’ he managed eventually, inspecting the stains on the carpet as if they held all of the secrets of the universe._

_‘What the hell are you sorry about, angel?’ Crowley huffed a half-laugh and spread his limbs on the couch once more, the angel could notice in his peripheral vision. ‘I just told you that we wouldn’t have pandas anymore if I would have gone and done whatever it was that I was planning on doing. You like pandas, don’t you?’_

_‘Crowley I am so, so sorry, please believe me.’_

_‘Angel, what’s the matter?’ Crowley was now getting up all tense and voice tinged with worry. ‘Did I do something wrong? Was it something I said? I didn’t want to spoil your evening or anything.’_

_‘I treated you so horribly.’_

_‘What are you talking about, angel?’_

_‘The bandstand. Alpha Centauri. Everything that happened. All you wanted to do was protect us and I dismissed you and I told you we weren’t friends and I acted so despicable to you and -’ he stopped and drew a deep breath._

_He had started waving his hands around and when that failed to calm him down started toying with the hem of his waistcoat instead._

_Crowley sat down on the floor in front of his armchair and tried to reach out and grasp the angel’s hand into his several times but always drew back at the last second._

_‘Nah, angel. We’ll have none of that bollocks. You did what you thought was best. And look,’ he drew a circle with one of his arms around the two of them pointing at the bookshop in general, ‘it worked. Everything is as it should be. We’re safe. On our own side. Hey, we still have pandas,’ he chuckled, going for a joke._

_Aziraphale shook his head, still not able to look him in the eye._

_‘It’s not just that, Crowley. It’s everything. I’ve always treated you badly. I always accused you of lying to me and told you that we weren’t even friends and so many other horrible things. I always took the highroad and you don’t deserve that, you really don’t, my dear.’_

_‘Angel. What brought this on? You know I never faulted you for any of that, right?’_

_‘Maybe you should have.’_

_‘What? No! Angel, look at me.’_

_Aziraphale shook his head some more, but Crowley wasn’t giving up on this so he placed a tentative hand on Azirpahle’s knee, effectively getting him to snap out of whatever inner battle he was having with his thoughts and stare wide eyed at the demon in front of him._

_‘I have no idea where all of this came from and honestly I don’t want to know since I might end up going Upstairs and giving them shits a piece of my mind. And I’d really like to avoid that scene for now,’ he tried to joke again, ‘but I have never thought you did anything wrong by me. You are your own person, Aziraphale, and you are entitled to your own decisions and thoughts and opinions. So what if they weren’t always aligned with mine. I mean, that would have been awkward over the years. Opposing sides and all that nonsense. I don’t know what to tell you to make you feel any better except that I forgive you if that’s what you need to hear. Not that a demon’s forgiveness is that big of a deal. Or that you need to be forgiven in the first place.’_

_‘But the Apocalypse and...and....I lied to you. I told you I didn’t -’_

_‘Shh. All forgotten. All forgiven. Even if, again, nothing to forgive. Or at least not on my part. You are perfect just the way you are. More than.’_

_Aziraphale’s breath hitched in his throat and for the first time that evening Crowley realised the precise nature of both the way they were sitting and the words that had just escaped his lips._

_Judging by their position alone one’s thoughts wandered back to biblical times and that very personal and riddled with symbolism act of washing one’s feet._

_Judging by what he had just said he might have as well said a little string of three words that they had danced around for millennia._

_‘Right then,’ Crowley cleared his throat and drew his hand back from Aziraphale’s knee as if it physically burned him. ‘Better be off. It’s getting late.’_

_He was already in the doorway when Aziraphale called after him._

_‘Crowley, please, just -’_

_‘Night angel. I’ll call you tomorrow. Please just promise me you’ll try forgiving all of those things too. You never did anything wrong.’_

***

‘This is not you! Not truly! Crowley would never say those things to me,’ Aziraphale cried out as he lowered the sword.

‘And yet here we are. This is what you think of me, angel. This is how you perceive me.’

‘No! Never!’

‘You were pretty adamant about it before. Pretty easily convinced. That’s how you’ve seen me, always.’

‘No. I never saw you like that. Only myself.’

‘Well, you’re not wrong.’

‘Shut up! This is not you, and it’s not me either. I have made mistakes, yes. I took you for granted each and every time. I always assumed that you would be there for me when I needed you. And yes. I told you no when you asked me to run away with you and not a day goes by when I don’t regret that. But you also know what? The world is still here because of us. Because we stayed and fought and because we didn’t give up. For that I am not sorry. For everything else I will spend the rest of my life trying to atone to you. But that means actually getting you, the proper you, out of here instead of feeling sorry for myself. So no, Crowley, I never did see you like that. And I am done seeing myself like that too.’

He sheathed the sword and carried on towards the elevator despite vision Crowley calling him all of the names that Aziraphale had always called himself in those dark and lonely hours of the night whenever he thought about the demon.

He got inside the elevator and closed the scissor gates himself, Eric sitting as far back as possible and looking at the angel with a shocked look on his face.

‘Real Crowley would never say any of those things to me. Because he knows how to forgive. And I should try doing that too,’ he addressed vision Crowley with a very determined look on his face as Eric pressed the next button on the panel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No historical titbit this time around.


	8. Heresy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: natural disasters, death, child death (none of it actually depicted, just mentioned), religious fuckery (I am very adamant in my views on religion as a whole)
> 
> Also - sadness. A lot of it.

_“And now attend here;” and he raised his finger._

_“When thou shalt be before the radiance sweet_

_Of her whose beauteous eyes all things behold,_

_From her thou’lt know the journey of thy life.”_

The ride was rickety, but as Aziraphale started to understand by now, this was the norm. But at least it took far less time than usual.

Eric had tried making small talk on their way to the next circle but had been quickly silenced by Aziraphale’s stern look.

‘Let’s see what we have here,’ Eric tried throwing the angel the best smile he could come up with as he got out of the elevator and beckoned for Aziraphale to follow. The last circle had left him feeling all weird so he had no notion of how to properly act towards the angel anymore. Not that he ever had, mind you. 

‘I can’t believe these things,’ he groaned and gave the tablet a few hard smacks. ‘You’d think they’d update the tech every now and again,’ he added as if Aziraphale could be at all bothered by the state of their tablets.

‘Ah, there it is! Heresy!’ Eric exclaimed as if the mere word made him immensely happy. 

_Well, it should, shouldn’t it?_ Aziraphale mused.

‘Heresy? I’m an angel! I can’t be tempted into heresy! That’s… well, that’s heresy!’

‘Don’t look at me, mister angel. I’m just the tour guide.’

‘And a damn poor job you are doing, too! This is supposed to be the seventh circle!’

‘No need to get snappy with me. It is how it is. You push the buttons next time.’

‘Anyway, I don’t know what we are doing in this circle. There’s no way I can be tempted into that.’

He waited for a bit and the room completely changed around them.

Aziraphale gulped.

‘Is this supposed to be Heaven?’ Eric offered helpfully. ‘It is, isn’t it? I remember from my trip Upstairs. Quite the view, too.’

Aziraphale stepped a couple of steps forward, not quite sure what was supposed to happen next.

Suddenly he was surrounded by archangels with contemptuous expressions on their faces.

‘Ah, Aziraphale,’ Michael intoned with the most fake smile he had ever seen plastered on her face.

‘Michael, Gabriel, Uriel,’ he tried smiling faintly at them in return.

Someone cleared their throat behind him.

‘Ah, Sandalphon, of course. To what do I owe this pleasure?’

Sandalphon threw him a toothy grin that warned of nothing good.

‘You have been a bit of a fallen angel, haven’t you, Aziraphale,’ Michael paced around him and Aziraphale had a strong feeling of a deja vu that would end up with a punch in the gut.

‘Taking the Lord’s name in vain like that,’ Gabriel said with a fake pout on his face. ‘Going directly against the Divine Plan? Pretending to know better than God Herself...well, that’s not what we call acceptable behaviour. So what I want you to do is, well, repent for your sins, obviously. Isn’t Old Mother Church forgiving like that?’

‘Sins, I...I don’t believe I committed any sins...’

‘You don’t? What do you call turning a blind eye while the demon Crawly saved the children in Mesopotamia? How about in Egypt? Going directly against Her wishes.’

 _But they were children_ , half of him wanted to scream at them while the other half cowered under the accusations.

‘Why did you miracle those boats safe across the Gibraltar after what happened in Alhambra?’ Gabriel continued.

_Surely they couldn’t know about that..._

‘You cured people of the Plague that God had sent to cleanse the sins of humanity,’ Uriel stepped in. ‘You questioned the crucifixion. You associated yourself with moors and other nonbelievers. You stood up for women accused of witchcraft. Accused of consorting with the devil.’

‘They were just lonely old ladies...they were accused unjustly...’

_They shouldn't have known about any of this._

They were circling him like hawks throwing accusation after accusation at him, chipping away at what little belief he still had that he had done the right thing.

‘Not to mention associating yourself with demons to begin with,’ Gabriel continued, face inches away from Aziraphale’s and crowding him in. ‘And those pitiful displays of emotion,’ the archangel nearly spat the word out. ‘Crying like a little babe in Pompeii, I mean, Aziraphale, that is so unbefitting an angel...’

Aziraphale closed his eyes and tried to get his heart to function properly and to get his breath in check. He needed neither of those but he found that it helped.

He was on the verge of apologising for everything and begging them for atonement when Crowley’s voice appeared in his mind, no louder than a whisper.

_‘It’s not God’s will, angel. God would never be so cruel.’_

***

He remembered sitting on what used to be a verdant hill and looking forlornly into the distance.

The smoke was still all-pervasive. His clothes were still covered in soot. His ears kept ringing with the cries and the sobs and the yells. He could smell nothing but fire and death.

And yet, the minute the wind changed, he felt Crowley's presence instantly. His scent came first. He somehow could feel the smell of brimstone over the one of fire and ash, even if it was not so different to begin with. But with it also came the smell of cinnamon and cloves. Then he heard him shuffle in that way he always did, never being able to stand still, but still moving with the grace of a dancer. He always shifted and couldn’t stay put when he was unsure on how to approach a matter. _Or an angel_ , Aziraphale thought.

Whenever he felt the angel’s eyes on him he acted like he was confident, demure, on top of things. But each and every time before approaching the angel he acted like this. Aziraphale had sensed him more than enough times to see a pattern. And had inspected him out of the corner of his eye without getting noticed thus far. _Not that Crowley was aware of it or ever needed to know._

He turned towards the demon with a steely look in his eyes, a bit surprised to see Crowley hadn’t changed corporations since the last time they saw each other. The demon stilled instantly and shot him a half smile. It didn’t reach her eyes.

‘If you’ve come here to tempt me Crowley, you must know I’m really not in the mood.’

He was probably looking a mess. His usually impeccable toga was torn and covered in ash and dirt. His hair was matted and it stuck to his forehead. There were probably tear streaks on his now almost black cheeks.

Crowley was looking slightly better but not by much. Her burgundy stola was all but covered in black hand prints. Aziraphale made a point not to notice their size. Or, at least not to let his mind dwell on it. Her usually perfectly coiffed hair was in a complete disarray and not even her midnight black palla could cover up the pained expression on her face.

It was almost dusk. _Or was it?_ The time of day meant nothing anymore. It had gone dark midday and in between rushing people over to the ships and trying to cast as many angelic miracles as he could, Aziraphale had frankly lost track of time. Everything was grey. The sort of grey that permeates your very soul. He was lucky he didn’t need to breathe. If only the other people in the city would have been as lucky as him…

Crowley’s usually bright and luminous eyes had lost their shine, or so the angel thought for the split second that he was allowed to see them.

‘I...no. I just thought you could use a drink,’ Crowley shifted slightly while looking at her feet as she produced a clay jug from somewhere or other. ‘I could go if you wanted. I didn’t mean to impose. Here, enjoy the wine,’ she added and placed the clay jug on the ground in front of her, still making no eye contact with the angel.

‘No, Crowley! I didn’t mean it like that!’ he called out just as the demon turned around and started walking away.

Aziraphale sighed.

‘I guess we can drink this together,’ he said in a breathy tone despite trying his best not to give away how utterly exhausted he was feeling. He knew that attempt was in vain anyway, judging by the way he looked.

Crowley nodded and sat down on the ground gathering the folds of her burgundy stola around her. She didn’t say anything, though, just stared straight ahead as she drank from the jug. The look on her face wasn’t like something Aziraphale had ever seen before but he didn’t comment on it.

He took the jug when offered and they both drank in silence for what seemed like hours. It must have been by a series of demonic miracles that it managed to stay full for so long but the angel didn’t comment on it. 

  


[full size](https://www.rainydaypaperback.com/media/files/AO3/flame/pompeii.png)

They were both completely covered in ash by the time any of them said anything. He glanced sideways at Crowley and fought back all of the inner voices that told him to reach over and bury his fingers in her long curls and try to get them looking their marvellous looking usual self instead of this bleak picture of death and destruction.

_What was it that Gabriel said? It is the Will of the Lord._

He looked straight ahead some more.

The smoke still filled the air but at least it was quiet now.

‘So, wha’ddya reckon, angel? Will they stop it with the bloodshed for a little while now that they got their fix?’

It took a minute for the meaning behind the demon’s words to properly register.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Them feathery fucks up there - think they had enough to last us the next hundred years? Or do they plan to come up with another mass extinction in 40 years?’

‘Crowley, this is not a proper conversation for an angel to have. If God says -’

‘M’not talking about God, angel,’ Crowley slurred a little bit. ‘I’m talking about those pretentious fucks.’

‘Crowley!’

‘Wut? You can’t possibly believe God wanted this to happen?’ she waved a hand about in the general direction of the ruined city.

‘Of course She did. And I am in no position to question Her Authority. Not that it should ever be questioned.’

‘Mneh,’ Crowley shrugged and downed the rest of the contents from the jug.

‘She must have had Her reasons,’ Aziraphale continued as he remembered some more of Gabriel’s words. _It’s all part of the Divine Plan._

‘You know, same as me, that God wouldn’t do such a thing. And anyway, how do you even know that? Are you lot being told what the Divine Plan actually is or are you all just going along with what orders come from up high without asking any questions?’

‘I think I have had just about enough of this nonsense. I told you, if you came here to tempt me you are wasting your time.’

‘I’m not, angel. I’m just saying,’ Crowley gestured some more and wildly at that and it was just as good that the jug was empty because otherwise half of its contents would have been spilled down half the hillside judging by the large arc Crowley attempted to draw with her jug holding hand. Aziraphale’s gaze didn’t linger on how her ringlets were swept off in the process, nor on how the stola lifted ever so slightly to expose her calves. He tried to focus his attention on the demon's words instead.

‘You’re just saying what, Crowley? That you know better than the rest of Heaven about what God wants and doesn’t want? That a demon could even care about such things? What exactly is it you’re saying? You have no idea what God’s plans are!’ he snapped, by this point properly annoyed.

He got up to his feet and brushed some dirt off his toga even if it was more of a frustrated gesture rather than anything else seeing as he was completely covered in ash.

‘That’s what I’m saying, angel!’ Crowley’s voice was almost a plea. ‘No one knows what She planned. How can you presume to -’

‘Presume?’ he nearly bellowed as he felt his wings start unfurling on another plane of existence.

The demon drew back on her palms and heels looking properly horrified. _Good._

His day had been nothing short of horrible and then when he thought he had a moment for himself to mourn the enormous loss of life Gabriel had showed up and punched his shoulder with a shit eating grin on his face. He thought he would nearly lose it there and then. But he kept his wits about him. He reigned it all in. 

***

_‘Aziraphale,’ the archangel announced, deadpanned. ‘I thought I’d find you here.’_

_Aziraphale didn’t even shift his gaze to the side to acknowledge Gabriel’s presence._

_‘You see, there’s been a surprising number of miracles registered in the area. So imagine my surprise to see that your name popped up on the registry. Any particular reason for the additional miracles, Aziraphale?’ he asked with a fake smile on his face._

_Of course this was frowned upon.._

***

And then the demon showed up. Just a jug of wine. _What’s a jug of wine between natural born enemies?_

He remembered their last meeting, only ten years ago. They bumped into each other at a party and decided to call it a night at some point because all of the good food was gone - courtesy of Aziraphale and all the best wine had been finished for hours - courtesy of Crowley. He tried not thinking about that. It had been fun. Too fun even. _No. He shouldn’t let his mind wander. That was how the demon got to him._

‘I’m leaving,’ he declared, chin raised high.

That seemed to wake up something in the demon as she got to her feet, palla long forgotten on the ground. She looked properly disheveled, stola dirty and hugging her figure oddly and hair at any odd angle.

‘Oh, you’re leaving, are you?’ she approached him pointing an accusing finger at him. ‘Isn’t that just precious. It’s all you know what to do, anyway.’

‘You take that back right now!’ Aziraphale spluttered, not believing his ears. After all the miracles he had performed all day, this was just uncalled for.

‘No. I will do no such thing. I trusted you, Aziraphale. Ever since the very beginning, I trusted you. And today you did as much as I did and you put yourself out there and you were sad about what happened. And it is a good thing to be sad about such an enormous loss of life. It’s the first time I’ve seen you doing this. So I thought, let’s go and cheer the angel up, why not, he deserves this. And then that utter cumstain Gabe shows up and you eat up everything he says. Lah deh dah, the Lord’s will and all of that crap. Well that’s bullshit, Aziraphale!’

‘You shut up this instant!’

‘Or what? Are you going to smite me? For doing the right thing for once? For caring about children and people in pain? For trying to save them? Smite me, then! It’s obvious you are as brainwashed as the lot of them.’

‘Take that back!’

‘No! You will stay here and you will listen to me until something akin to reason gets into that thick head of yours. This is not God’s will. Or, if it is, then I guess reality is even bleaker than I thought. This was a good city with good people! What was it this time that offended your lot’s delicate sensibilities so much? I remember there were children born in the wrong faith at one point. Children, Aziraphale! Not to mention that whole raining for forty days and fourty nights business. I’m not even mentioning Sodom and Gomorrah. So pray, tell me, what was it this time?’

‘I...well...I....’

‘You don’t know, do you? And still you defend the lot of them and come up with explanations for the death toll. Did you regret saving them? At least tell me that.’

‘What?’

‘The people you miracled safe - did you regret giving them a chance to live the minute that darling Gabe showed up?’

Aziraphale looked at him for the first time since the demon had started her tirade. He had tried to keep his eyes on anything but her for fear of what he might see. And he had been right. The look in her eyes was nothing like he had ever witnessed before. There was hatred and panic and desperation there. And pleading…

‘That’s enough, Crowley. I’m leaving.’

‘Angel...you’re not listening to me...God would never want something like this,’ the demon managed to say in a broken voice as she sank to her knees.

Aziraphale only heard her because he was an angel and his hearing was otherworldly. He was on the other side of the hill by then.

***

He had often pondered over that encounter with Crowley. _No, ponder was not the right word, precisely. Fuss? Maybe panic? Definitely overthink._

He had tried putting it out of his mind on countless nights, trying to do what those humans always went on about, which was sleep.

_The first night he tried it he dreamed of heavy, dark-grey clouds. The sound of the rain was deafening._

_Crowley was looking at him, long locks plastered on his forehead and cheeks while bearing a sour expression._

_‘They’re just kids, Aziraphale, how can you possibly condone this?’_

_Aziraphale stood still as a statue, no words escaping his mouth._

_Crowley shook his head once, extended his midnight black wings and was off._

For some reason he woke up all sweaty and breathing heavily. He decided to give up sleeping altogether for at least the next hundred years.

***

He gave it up for two hundred and thirty four years or up until meeting with Crowley again in Mediolanum.

He had been so overtaken with joy when he first felt the demonic presence that he had rushed inside the Imperial Palace in a daze, hoping that their meeting would lead up to a meal and late night drinks like those times in Rome and in Pompeii. He knew something of immense importance was taking place, had been sent there to witness the momentous occasion, but, sensing Crowley there completely overwrote any commands from Upstairs.

He had smiled widely at the demon only to be met with an icy expression and feigned indifference. He could feel something else there, bubbling underneath the surface but he couldn’t place his finger on what exactly that was.

‘This has _absolutely_ no way of coming back to bite us all in the arse,’ Crowley commented to a man on his right who nodded vehemently and then turned to Aziraphale and scowled at him.

‘There you have it angel, what your people have been advocating for all of these years finally coming true. Congratulations. I hope you can forgive yourself in a couple of centuries’ time and still consider it a good thing.’

‘What can you possibly mean, of course it’s a good thing. The end of persecution and -’

‘You all should feel awfully proud of yourselves, give yourselves a pat on the back, why don’t you?’ Crowley said with a slight wave of his hand towards the people signing the deed, drained his cup of wine and was out of the hall in a matter of seconds.

That night Aziraphale felt drained. He didn’t remember ever feeling so exhausted in his entire life. Something in Crowley’ voice had stayed with him. He closed his eyes and fell asleep on the spot.

What did he even mean? Of course it was a good thing, and something that Heaven had fought to bring about for such a long time. _It was God’s will, after all._

That evening he dreamt of a time long ago. A time he had tried his hardest to bury down deep deep down and never think about.

_There were wails all around and people cradling babes to their chests yelling at the skies that did not bother to offer any reply._

_These people were starving, sick, desperate, and then Heaven had thought to kill their firstborns too._

_Aziraphale blinked a couple of times and dismissed the thought as blasphemous. It was God’s will. She must have had a reason._

_Crowley found him soon after, his usual expensive gold jewellery, fine linens and pitch black wig forgotten. He had opted for a nondescript brownish tunic and an overcoat with a hood instead. He didn’t even wear kohl._

_Aziraphale threw him a confused look, knowing how much Crowley enjoyed his fineries and noticed that his hands were smeared with blood._

_‘You? You did this?’ he took a step back in disbelief._

_‘No, it was your bloody lot that did it, same as always.’_

_‘Then what is the meaning of that?’_

_‘This?’ Crowley lifted a hand and inspected it thoughtfully. He was not taking what happened any better than the angel, it would seem._

_‘New hobby of mine. Door painting.’_

_It took a moment for the words to register properly and then Aziraphale drew up to his full height prepared to admonish him for derailing God’s plans. He felt obligated to do so._

_‘Crowley, you must know that God Herself -’_

_‘Spare me the details, angel. It’s either not God’s plan or God should seriously consider changing careers. There are some openings down below.’_

_‘Crowley! That is blaspheming! You take that back this instant!’_

_Crowley shot him another look, shook his head and was off._

Aziraphale woke up covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He couldn’t help but feel guilty about almost agreeing with Crowley. But that had been then, and now, seeing as Christians were no longer ostracised and martyred, they could all put all of that unpleasantness behind them and rejoice in the new found peace and religious acceptance. Crowley was wrong. He was definitely wrong. This was the right thing to have happened. The Divine Plan always worked out in the end. _Of course it did, it was what God wanted, after all._

***

The next time he met the demon he was in Anatolia. It was on another mission from Upstairs. This time around he couldn't say he approved of the executive decisions but it was not his place to question such matters.

He felt Crowley’s presence as soon as he entered the city, but he had an edict being signed to witness. And judging by how they had left things the last time they saw each other, meeting him could wait for now. He didn’t even know if Crowley wanted to meet him in the first place.

He left the palace in a fit of anger stomping as he walked and feeling righteous fury burning inside him.

 _Madmen and heretics indeed_ . What was the matter with these people? Wasn’t it enough to be able to practice their religion in peace? Wasn’t it enough for it to be declared the official religion in all of the Roman Empire? Not that he understood the need for such a thing. To each their own and all of that. But to call them heretics and to shun them and think that abuse and punishment was alright, that was absolutely uncalled for! They had killed Jesus for telling people to be nice to each other and now they were doing this? _How could God even condone such a_ \- he stopped mid thought and tried to clear his mind. _This was blasphemous talk_. He decided to go and see the demon instead. And drink himself into a stupor. That seemed like a good plan at the moment.

So it was just as well that he found Crowley in a tavern on the outskirts of town. And apparently he was like-minded in his exploits.

Crowley was sitting - _even if that was the polite way of putting it_ \- in a booth at the back with his feet spread inelegantly and his cheek on the wood table that looked both rather rough and much too dirty for him to do such a thing. He was surrounded by wine carafes. Maybe a dozen of them.

He sat down as delicately as he could on the bench opposite the demon and waited.

At some point Crowley acknowledged that he wasn’t the only occupant of the table and spoke hoarsely.

‘Go away. Or bring me another wine thingy. Both. Yeah, both is good.’

Aziraphale cleared his throat and waited patiently some more.

Crowley lifted his head and placed his chin on the surface of the table instead, trying to make out who was there through bleary eyes. He even took his sunglasses off and stared at the angel.

‘Oh, it’s you. Came here to gloat?’

‘Why ever would I gloat?’

Crowley did his best to push up from the table and sit properly. His best was’t all that successful. He failed three times and narrowly nailed it on the fourth try.

‘What you wanted, ain’t it? The good Christian faith,’ he left out a shrill laugh after almost spitting the word “good” out.

‘Well yes, they made it the official faith. That was...um...that was…’

‘What your lot wanted since the very beginning. Congrats. And now they’re doing what they’re best at. What they’ve always been best at. Killing everyone else who doesn’t believe in dear old Mummy.’

‘What? I mean surely -’

‘Have a little fun and enjoying life? Boom! You get turned into salt. Not adhering to what Heaven considers to be appropriate behaviour? Great big rain. Not responding well to threats of all the plagues there are being set loose upon your kingdom? Dead children, why not?’

‘Now, listen here, the Pharaoh was being very difficult about that whole th -’

‘They were _children_ , Aziraphale!’ he bellowed and let his fist land on the table scaring some of the other patrons.

‘M’sorry bout that,’ he lifted his hands to placate the innkeeper who was throwing him a nasty look. ‘Bring us two more of these,’ he pointed at the carafes now that he had his undivided attention.

‘Listen, mate, I think you’ve had enough of those for the time being.’

Crowley shrugged and dropped a money purse on the table which earned him a glare, a sigh and then a nod.

Two more wine carafes were brought to the table and Crowley instantly started drinking directly from one of them, cup, by now, long forgotten.

‘I told you from the very beginning, didn’t I?’

‘What was it that you’re supposed to have told me?’ Aziraphale looked at him with a cautious expression as he poured himself a cup of wine. He didn’t like seeing Crowley like this and he knew that he most definitely wouldn’t like what came next.

‘It was never about faith, angel. It was about power. I told you you’ll regret it eventually. So? Do you? Do you regret it?’

‘I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.’

‘It was too good to last anyway,’ Crowley commented as he leaned backwards and tipped his head on the backrest of the bench. ‘I figured as much after Pompeii. It was my favourite, you know?’

‘I know, my d...um, Crowley. You’ve said.’

‘Same as with everything else, really. You think they’ll make a better job of it? That they’ll show the mercy they never received back when they were being ostracised?’

‘I...Crowley, let’s not talk about this, please,’ Aziraphale said in no more than a whisper, looking down at his cup guiltily. _Madmen and heretics_. He tried to swallow but there was something lodged in his throat. ‘You know I’m not supposed to talk about this. I know you have to tempt me, it’s you job, but can we just -’

‘No angel, it’s not that. It’s never th...yes, best not to talk about it. Cheers. Here’s to hoping you don’t regret after all. I never wanted that for you.’

***

It took him years, _no_ , centuries to realise the reason why that phrase bugged him so much. The same phrase he heard on Golgotha. About the same basic issue.

It took him almost a thousand of them to be asked yet again if he regretted it, if he still thought it to be a part of a bigger plan unknown to them as people retreated from Jerusalem. 

Another two hundred to be told that no God would permit something like this happening as they worked side by side to hide the stowaways in the hulls of the ships that travelled to Morroco.

He heard it many times in Italy whenever a particular vile Pope was elected.

And little by little it chipped at his certainty that this was somehow part of something bigger instead of, as Crowley had put it, “people being dumb cunts for no particular reason”. Nothing had any particular end or reason. It didn’t seem like God had any goal in sight.

He tired the best he could to shut down those thoughts but they plagued his dreams every time he tried to sleep. He could always hear Crowley’s voice at the back of his mind.

He tried sleeping as little as possible but those thoughts permeated his daily musings.

So it was no wonder that after the dust settled after the End of the World that wasn’t that he finally snapped and listened to what Crowley had been saying all along.

_‘It’s all part of the Great Plan, yes, but is it the Ineffable Plan as well?’_

***

No one smote him. There were no clouds opening for him to be served divine justice, so, could it just be....

‘No,’ he said as he opened his eyes.

‘Excuse me?’

‘No. Nothing of what you say it’s true actually really is. There is no Ineffable plan that could account for all of the horrors that I got to experience. Nothing to make up for the millions of lives lost. That is not Divine justice. It never was.’

‘Aziraphale, that’s heresy. You are only damning yourself even further. Admit that you are wrong, beg for forgiveness and accept that it is all Her will.’

‘No.’

‘Aziraphale, now listen here -’

‘NO! You listen! I have done your bidding for millennia, always believing that it was God’s plan. That we were doing God’s work. Watching all of those countless people die and not being able to do anything because it contravened with some Divine masterplan. And I believed you all that time and did nothing.’

He was the one walking in circles now, not even bothering to look up at their shocked expressions.

‘I stood by and did nothing as I watched people die. Over and over again because each time I did I was reprimanded for it and made to feel wrong and sinful and going against God’s will. You know what? I am done with that kind of nonsense!’

‘Aziraphale. That is point blank heresy.’

Then the angel lifted his eyes and levelled the other four archangels with a Look.

And then he started laughing.

‘It really isn’t. Never was. What you lot are doing is. Presuming to know the word of our Lord? Explaining it all as Her will? When was it the last time any of you actually heard anything from the Almighty?’

‘Well,’ Uriel began, but was shushed instantly by Michael.

‘Thinking you understand the Ineffable Plan is not only presumptuous but everything that God didn’t want happening. Or did She? We can’t know because it’s all ineffable. It’s in the name. So no, I have no qualms about putting a stop to this mindless brainwashing and calling you out for what you are instead of committing a sin I have committed for centuries.’

Gabriel opened his mouth to speak.

‘Isn’t it ironic? That I would try to atone for heresy in the deepest bowels of hell? Must be.’

‘You’ll regret this, Aziraphale,’ Michael pointed a finger at him accusingly.

‘The only thing I regret is not realising it sooner. I could have saved so many lives. I could have done so much. I could have helped them if it wasn’t for you always thinking that humans should toil and suffer and die and that somehow an all-loving God would not only be alright with such a thing but actually order it done.’

‘If you’re such a smart cookie, tell us this. How come God never stopped any of it happening then?’

_‘This has got to be my biggest accomplishment yet,’ he heard Crowley’s voice as through a dream from that warm August night when he lay sprawled on the couch in the backroom of the bookshop and drank like there was no tomorrow. ‘It looks like I did the good thing and you did the bad one, after all.’_

‘Free will. It was always about free will from the very beginning. And maybe it took me six thousand years and the End of the World to realise it, but that’s what it’s always been about. Doesn’t paint Heaven in such an advantageous light to have a demon actually make me aware of that, but, then again, none of you have been particularly angelic, have you?’

‘Azirphale!’ Gabriel bellowed after him as he turned on his heels and headed for the elevator. ‘You come back here this instant!’

‘Goodbye,’ Aziraphale said on a note of finality, not even bothering to turn around. ‘The only heresy I could commit right now is to agree with you.’

He continued walking until he reached the elevator where he clasped his hands behind him and gave Eric an expectant look.

Eric just stared at him, tablet clutched tightly to his chest and eyes as wide as saucers.

‘Damn!’ he managed eventually.

They sat in silence for a moment before Aziraphale cleared his throat.

‘That was...I mean...wow. That was like...wow. I wish the bloody camera worked on this piece of junk but of course it’s as broken as the rest of it.’

‘Eric?’

‘Yes, mister angel, sir?’

‘Could we?’ he pointed helpfully at the pushbutton panel.

‘Oh, yeah! For sure.’

_One more. Just one more and then he’d reach Crowley._

Kind, considerate, gentle Crowley who had always tried to open his eyes about the whole thing. Who had gone out of his way to save as many people as possible each and every time. To prevent as many disasters as possible. Who Aziraphale had always kept at arm's length, telling himself he was being tempted into sin and heresy when Crowley was doing the exact opposite.

He always probed, he always questioned. He never settled for anything less than the absolute truth, no matter how hard it hurt.

Aziraphale let the back of his head rest on one of the walls of the elevator and closed his eyes as the rickety contraption started moving.

Crowley had always called him out on it. Each and every time. But none of those times had been with malice or ill intent. More like curiosity or thinly concealed frustration.

Except that one time.

He had heard the demon’s words even if he had left before her display of vulnerability. He could at least have Crowley have that. 

He now realised it was actually fear and guilt and anger at having anything that made Crowley feel so small and helpless, but he hadn’t at the time.

_What was it that made Pompeii so special?_

***

‘It is my favourite so far,’ she had said in the warm August night, sitting on the edge of a fountain with feet swinging about as they were inches away from the ground. _Such a presumptuous thing, to start calling a month after yourself_ , Aziraphale mused.

‘I think I might settle here for a while. The food is to die for. And the wine,’ she pointed at the jug in her hand. ‘The art is very on point,’ she continued and wiggled her eyebrows laughing out loud.

‘Surely you don’t mean those crude depictions of -’

‘Oh, leave it be, angel,’ she waved her hand at him with another giggle.

 _Angel_...he was one, of course, so why did Crowley calling him that do weird things to his heart? He had never called him that before. It made him feel warm all over and not in a bad way.

‘You might think of staying too? To prevent the wiles of the evil one, of course,’ she added as soon as she saw him open his mouth to object.

‘Of course,’ Aziraphale nodded and sipped his own wine. He had never seen Crowley so genuinely happy and so open before.

He had caught glimpses of it along the ages, sure, but never like this.

He remembered the look of awe she had in Babylon upon seeing the gardens. He remembered how he laughed out loud in Pergam when they just happened to catch a play together. And of course, there was always Rome. But never like this.

‘I think we could be happy here, angel,’ he could swear he heard the demon say, but then she tipped her head back and started looking at the stars drawing her knees to her chest and putting an arm around them, looking absolutely serene.

He was considered by all to be an envoy from Rome. She was looked upon as a courtesan, judging by attire alone, but she took a whole deal of pleasure out of denying her would-be-patrons’ advances more than anything else.

This was a perfect moment in a perfect city and nothing short of divine intervention could make it less so.

Aziraphale extended a hand and took the wine jug.

He remembered Rome and oysters.

But that seemed like forever ago.

They had both been on a mission. He was to influence Nero towards the light and Crowley was to sway Caligula. None of them had been all that successful in their missions.

But now…now they were on their own if only for a little bit as a reward for a job well done. So what could possibly go wrong?

He took the wine jug but kept his fingers over Crowley’s for more than actually necessary.

He got a warm smile and a blush in return. So he let his fingers linger even longer.

 _Yes. They could be happy there_. Both of them in their little bubble until Heaven and Hell came calling.

***

_Oh, darling._

_I am coming for you. I am. I promise._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> History titbits (oh God, this is gonna be a long one):
> 
> \- Pompeii 79 AD - I gather you all guessed that but you know - big volcano eruption and everything  
> \- (first dream) The Flood  
> \- Mediolanum (Milan) 313 AD - The Edict of Milan - Emperor Constantine decides that woop, Christianity should be a thing, fucking wanker.  
> \- (second dream) - The Plagues in Egypt - isn't that a hoot? Killing off all of the firstborn babies the Egyptians had because...well, I dunno why. Just because.  
> \- Thessalonica 380 AD - The Edict of Thessalonica - It condemned ancient pluralistic spiritual tradition along with other Christian creeds such as Arianism as heresies of madmen, and authorised their persecution - taken right off Wikipedia, this one  
> \- I am also mentioning the Inquisition (both in the Alhambra bit and the Morocco bit)  
> \- Pompeii 69 AD - in the last flashback - don't @me about that particular number :))
> 
> This is my absolute favourite chapter in this thing. Please yell at me in the comments :D


	9. Lust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Um.....I guess this one is pretty straightforward...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: non-con touching and attempted kissing, nudity, lewd language, Crowley being super slutty. Vision Crowley, that is. If you get bothered by all of the sex talk you could skip this chapter altogether.

_Love, that exempts no one beloved from loving,_

_Seized me with pleasure of this man so strongly,_

_That, as thou seest, it doth not yet desert me;_

‘So which one is this one? It’s either our destination or…’

_Oh no._

_No no. Please, no._

He didn’t have enough time to back away to the safe confines of the elevator. _Safe to a fault_ , but now he would take being dangled over a pit of Hellfire over this. _Anything but this._

His feet were laden.

His thoughts were all over the place.

He knew what was coming but nothing could prepare him for the way his heart nearly jumped out of his chest as he felt a pair of lips brush the back of his neck, just behind his ear.

‘Hello, angel,’ was whispered in his ear in the sultriest of tones that Aziraphale had ever heard to this day.

He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rise to attention. They weren’t the only things rising to attention.

_Oh please, God above, just smite him already._

_No, please, no_. He could never resist this one, of that he was certain.

Crowley then placed his hands on his shoulders and started rubbing lazy circles on his back and arms while nibbling at his neck.

A small broken noise escaped the angel’s lips.

‘Ah, so you do enjoy it, you minx,’ he could feel Crowley grin against his skin as he dove in for an actual bite.

Aziraphale gasped.

Eric looked at both him and the vision of Crowley and cleared his throat.

‘I…I think I’d better leave you two to it. No one said anything about stuff like this. I’m as much of a demon as the rest of them but voyeuristic tendencies really aren’t my thing.’

Aziraphale shot him a desperate look and tried to beg him to stay, lest this became less a hellish temptation and more one of his everyday fantasies.

Eric backed away quickly and was inside the elevator in a matter of seconds.

Just as soon as the scissor gates closed and the elevator took off, Crowley draped his arm around Aziraphale’s shoulders and, in an entirely too fluid a movement for any mortal to manage, he was now facing Aziraphale completely, faces inches apart.

 _This will be the death of me_ , the angel thought.

Crowley looked down at his lips and licked his own in a slow languid movement, making full use of his long, serpentine tongue.

Aziraphale felt on the verge of spontaneously combusting.

Crowley tilted his chin up with one of those long elegant fingers that Aziraphale had dreamed about relentlessly over the ages and proceeded to bite his neck proper.

Sure, Aziraphale had imagined those fingers in any and all scenarios and a small gesture like that was the most PG13 thought out of the countless ones he had harboured over along the last centuries.

One of Crowley’s hands found its way to the back of Aziraphale’s neck while the other snaked ever so slightly downwards, over his chest which made Aziraphale draw in a sharp inhale and down his stomach which elicited another intake of breath and then finally arriving downwards still.

‘Oh, so you _are_ happy to see me, after all,’ the demon whispered in the vicinity of his throat while his hand was rubbing against him and _Oh God please have mercy on me, I really can’t do this_ , he thought as he fought his hardest ( _hah_!) not to chase after Crowley’s hand.

‘You have been terribly tempting over the years, angel. You have no idea what you did to me. How many times I wanted to just give in and ravish you completely. You always look ever so…scrumptious.’

Aziraphale didn’t whimper. Nor did he gasp as he felt teeth graze his ear and bite down.

Crowley was continuing to do very indecent things with his hand but he found himself unable to snap out of it and just end it already.

He had wanted this for decades. _Hell, for centuries._

He had wanted this ever since the very beginning, if he was being honest. It just took him a lot of time to figure it out.

He first felt it on that blasted hill and _yes, maybe, judging by the momentous occasion it shouldn’t have been the time and the place_ . He maybe should have kept his thoughts on slightly more tamer subjects. _Heavenly, even_. But then came Crowley with that absolutely gorgeous hair and raspy voice and he was all but lost.

He even made a lewd suggestion, or as lewd as any angel could without completely giving himself up.

He had called him the demon of lust. Aziraphale knew what he was doing at that precise moment. He was perfectly aware of the implications of his words, but Crowley didn’t comment on it. _At all._

That had been a thing.

He opened his eyes that he had closed sometime in the last couple of minutes and took Crowley in.

 _He was an utter spectacle_. Long hair. As long and as perfectly curled as it was in Jerusalem.

This was a fantasy. _A temptation_. Of course the demon wore what Aziraphale found most attractive.

He also wore a dark burgundy silk shirt, unbuttoned for the most part and the tightest leather pants the angel had ever seen him in.

_Oh, good Lord!_

That was too much, even for him. He couldn’t do it, he just couldn’t. _Please, good God!_

‘You like that, don’t you, you tempting thing? I wanted to watch you undress for millennia. Wanted to pan out the planes of your chest and place kisses on each and every inch of that fabulous body of yours. To kiss you for days and have my way with you over and over. If it was up to me you’d never leave the bed for days. Weeks. Months. I would kiss and lick and bite your perfect porcelain skin. I would take care of you. In all the ways there are.’

He cupped Aziraphale and it was clear for the both of them that Aziraphale was deeply affected by all of this. _Profoundly so._

‘Please, Crowley, I need…’

‘What is it you need, angel? I’d give you anything. Ride you until you’d call out to the heavens above. Rail you into the mattress until you would be incapable of speaking. Spend years in bed with you. You are something else, you are.’

Aziraphale’s knees nearly gave in. _Fuck_. He wanted this. He had dreamed about all of this for so long.

In Rome, when they had oysters. He showed Crowley how to tip his head back and let the oyster slide down his throat.

He felt bad for doing that because the next thing he knew he was rock hard and tried the best he could to adjust his toga so it wasn’t visible.

He imagined something altogether else going down the demon’s throat.

 _No_ , he needed to focus.

Crowley’s hands found themselves gently cupping his bum. And then he gave a hard squeeze, his eyes never leaving the angel’s.

Or in Paris. In Paris he nearly gave in. He wanted Crowley to have his way with him then and there on the prison floor.

He needed this desperately. He needed Crowley. It was a physical need.

And then Crowley went in for a passionate kiss.

He didn’t reciprocate. He couldn’t.

This was not the time or the place. _Or even the person_ , as he tried to remind himself this was just a hallucination.

‘How did you imagine me, angel? Fucking you until I knocked the last breath from your lungs? Railing me incessantly? Stroking my cock? Or me stroking yours. I always wondered what you taste like. But to be fair, I always daydreamed about you putting that sinful mouth of yours on me. If you’d make half of the hedonistic sounds you make while eating dessert, I’d be content. Those sounds always went straight to my cock. Or would you prefer I try another Effort? Be open and wet for you, angel. Would you like that?’

Aziraphale whimpered.

_No, this wasn’t happening._

_This wasn’t real._

Crowley pulled back and snapped his fingers and suddenly a large four poster bed filled the room.

It looked positively sinful.

Crowley took a few steps back, never letting his eyes off the angel and started unbuttoning his already loose silk shirt.

He took it off in a manner of seconds.

Then he started working at his belt and was holding it in one of his hands with a sly smile on his lips.

‘Or would you like to be spanked until you come undone from that alone? Is that something you’d like, angel? I could give you all of that. You just have to give in.’

With another snap of his fingers his trousers and pants had vanished and he stood stark naked in front of Aziraphale as he had been on the day of his Creation.

_Oh God…Oh, good Lord._

Then he sauntered towards the angel again, moving his hips in ways that no hips should be allowed to move.

‘So, how will you have me, angel?’

‘Mhm,’ he could feel himself say and he tried clearing his throat but all that happened was a loud gulp.

‘You are too fully dressed for the next bit.’

He came even closer and draped his arms around Aziraphale’s shoulders.

He took one end of his bow tie in between his teeth and pulled, grinning seductively as it came undone.

‘I will unwrap you like a present, angel.’

He was basically plastered to Aziraphale and he could feel Crowley was just as hard as he was.

_Fuck._

_No._

This was not how he imagined it. But at the same time everything like he imagined.

He wanted his first time with the demon to be soft and loving. Romantic. _Candles maybe_ . Scratch that. Crowley specifically forbade candles in the shop for some reason. _Rose petals?_

He wanted Crowley, not some fantasy dreamt up by hell.

But what if he could never have him like this? What if Crowley didn’t feel the same way? He wasn’t that much to look at after all. Surely the demon wouldn’t lust after him. _He would never._

Maybe this was the only way he could try this with his demon even if it was nothing more than a figment of his imagination.

 _Would that be enough?_ It would have to be. It could help him feel sated for centuries to come.

_Wouldn’t it?_

He groaned as he felt Crowley move against him.

It should be enough. And maybe if he had this with vision Crowley he wouldn’t want it so much with real-life Crowley.

Then he wouldn’t have to have that painful discussion with him.

Sure, he had the letter. The letter was fine. He loved him. _But you loved your friends too, didn’t you?_ And Crowley had suggested they were friends on a number of occasions.

‘Why don’t you bend me over and have your way with me, angel? You’d like that, wouldn’t you.’

He never imagined such words coming out of Crowley’s lips.

_Wanted to but never dared hope._

‘You just have to say it. How much you’d enjoy having me on all fours while I chanted your name.’

Crowley was always so sweet around him. Kept to himself most of the time. Surely he would never suggest something like that. Maybe he didn’t even want sex. _Well, of course he did, he was a demon_. But maybe just not with him.

‘I bet you would just loooove to get me on my knees and begging, angel.’

If Aziraphale hadn’t been glued to the spot this would have been the moment he would become still as a statue.

 _Love._ This was what it was all about. Not lust. He loved Crowley. And even if he had to spend the rest of Eternity watching him from a distance, he never could risk the safety of the demon for some fumble in the sheets with some…some… _fantasy_.

This wasn’t him. _No._ He was better than this. Crowley deserved better than this.

He snapped out of his daze and took a step backwards.

Fantasy Crowley looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

‘No. No…I can’t do this.’

There was a pointed look thrown at his groin and, sure enough, all evidence hinted to the contrary.

‘I can’t. No. This isn’t you, dearest,’ he nearly broke down with a sob.

‘It’s as much of me as you are ever going to get, angel.’

‘I know,’ Aziraphale was openly sobbing by now. ‘And somehow, that’s not enough. I need more.’

‘What more could you possibly get?’

‘I don’t know,’ Aziraphale drew in a deep breath as tears cascaded down his cheeks.

Crowley was looking at him with a come-hither glance that was almost impossible to ignore.

‘All of it. I…I don’t want this, Crowley.’

‘You clearly do,’ Crowley pointed out.

‘No. Never. Not like this. Oh, this is all my fault. I never should have presumed…or imagined…’

‘What are you talking about, angel?’ the demon arranged some of his curls and he looked even more tempting than before.

‘Of course it’s lust and not love. What if Crowley doesn’t want this? I never asked. I just assumed. What if this against his will. Oh, I feel so vile.’

‘But, angel, I do want it.’

‘No! Shut up! _Shut up_!’ he closed his eyes and placed his hands over his ears.

‘It’s the truth, angel,’ was whispered from somewhere around his middle as dexterous fingers worked his belt and trousers open.

‘No, please, no!’

‘You know you want it. You’ve wanted me ever since that bloody wall.’

‘I…not like this. Never like this, darling.’

He knew the term of endearment was lost on the hallucination in front of him but couldn’t care less.

***

_He had no idea what kind of miracles he was supposed to be performing in the area but his memos did say Florence and he had to admit that even if he was not that familiar with the art scene it was beginning to look amazing. The techniques had changed so much over the last hundred years and the subjects looked so life-like that he had to ask himself if there were other angels down there working on some of that divine inspiration._

_So he found himself in Caravaggio’s workshop, being led by one of the young apprentices to one of the rooms in the back without being able to have anything to say about it. He tried protesting since he knew how his subjects were often nude but he didn’t have much success in his exploits._

_‘No, signore, I don’t think you understand, I just needed to commission a painting, I don’t think that -’_

_And then he stopped completely._

_His eyes would have landed on the master himself and try to make up a poor excuse about why he was imposing on him while he painted._

_Instead they landed on the artist’s muse who was Crowley._

_A little bit more of Crowley than he had ever laid eyes on before._

_One might say a lot more._

_He lay completely naked, a crimson and expensive looking piece of silk draped haphazardly over one of his shoulders and falling down in neatly displayed folds on the love seat the demon was laying on._

_His eyes were closed and he looked to be experiencing absolute bliss. His face was more peaceful and relaxed than ever and his wild curls were spread on the backrest of the love seat._

_He let his eyes venture downwards, past the demon’s long neck that Aziraphale wanted to wrap his hands around for some reason and then downwards still. One of his arms was extended just behind his head, the muscles proving to be quite the excellent study for the maestro, while the other was resting casually on his thigh, fingers splayed elegantly over it._

_Oh, God, he would do anything to be that hand._

_One of Crowley’s legs was extended on the love seat while the other one was bent at the knee and then his eyes landed on -_

_He tried to swallow but he choked instead._

_That snapped both Crowley and the painter himself from whatever concentration they had._

_Caravaggio himself was not that impressed by the interruption, looking Aziraphale up and down with a connoisseur’s eye and asking him if he might consider posing for one of his paintings._

_Meanwhile, Crowley was anything but. He immediately scrambled for his sunglasses and then, immediately after bundled the expensive piece of cloth all around him, trying to cover as much skin as humanly (or inhumanely, in this case) possible._

_Aziraphale was trying his hardest to dissuade the painter to actually paint a picture of him when Crowley sauntered over, very awkward and very ill at ease._

_Aziraphale never wanted to see him like that._

_He wanted Crowley to always feel comfortable around him_

_A small voice inside his head told him that he wanted the demon to feel comfortable enough around him that he could see him in this particular state of undress yet again. He shushed that voice._

_‘I...um...sorry, angel. You were not supposed to be here.’_

_‘Of course not. I am very sorry to have intruded. It was not my intention to make you feel uncomfortable.’_

_‘Nor I you, angel,’ Crowley said with a very obvious blush and tried to clear his throat._

_And then clenched his fists._

_It was very clear to the angel that Crowley really didn't want him there._

***

‘I think I need to go.’

He took two more steps backwards and saw the obviously hurt expression on Crowley’s face and swore at all the powers that be.

He knew the demon was just a figment of his imagination but he still wanted to comfort him and whisper sweet nothings in his ear.

The hurt look nearly did him in.

_No._

He had to keep steadfast.

He had to find his own Crowley.

And if what was offered to him today would never happen for the rest of eternity then that was that.

He vowed to respect whatever Crowley decided.

He was far too precious. Far too near and dear to his heart.

He retraced his way to the elevator, eyes never leaving vision Crowley.

As soon as he was there he started pressing the button furiously.

It seemed like an eternity later when he heard the rusty rumble of the death contraption.

He got inside as fast as possible and forcefully closed the scissor gate.

There was only one more button left untouched.

It was the sixth one.

 _Should have seen that coming from a mile away_ , he mused as he pressed it and then banged his head on one of the elevator walls for a full minute.

Then he tried getting his breath under control and try to fix his erratic heartbeat and then and only then he adjusted his belt and trousers and slid down to sit on the floor, not caring about the state of his clothes, not even for one bit. Not that they weren’t completely ruined by this point.

_This surely had to be the worst one, didn’t it?_

_There was nothing worse than this?_

_Surely not._

A thought, a very uninvited thought, made its way to Aziraphale’s subconscious.

_Of course it could be worse._

Crowley could tell him off altogether.

He could tell him he had no feelings for him and never had.

He could singlehandedly damn him to an eternity spent in hell.

Not that he gave a shit about that, at the moment.

An eternity spent without Crowley would be hell anyway, wherever he spent it.

He pulled the letter from his inside pocket and held it close to his chest.

So this was it, then. _The moment of truth_.

The elevator drew to a rusty halt.

He drew in a deep breath and got up to his feet.

_Time to face the music._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woop, I changed the chapter count. Sry bout that.


	10. Treachery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter where Aziraphale finally finds Crowley. It. Is. Not. Pretty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: mentions of violence, suicidal thoughts, emotional torture

_If I had rhymes both rough and stridulous,_

_As were appropriate to the dismal hole_

_Down upon which thrust all the other rocks,_

_I would press out the juice of my conception_

_More fully; but because I have them not,_

_Not without fear I bring myself to speak;_

_For ’tis no enterprise to take in jest,_

_To sketch the bottom of all the universe,_

_Each one his countenance held downward bent:_

_From mouth the cold, from eyes the doeful heart_

_Among them witness of itself procures._

The ride took a while but that was just as well as it gave Aziraphale time to calm himself down, if only somewhat before whatever menace would happen next.

He was on the verge of tears already when he exited the elevator. But what he saw before him made him sob out loud.

Crowley was kneeling on the ground, hugging himself and crying desperately.

His wings were out and they were an absolute mess.

The tips were torn and most of the feathers were in complete disarray. There was dried blood coating them and some of the tips seemed broken.

Not to mention that Aziraphale could swear they almost looked scorched.

Nothing like Aziraphale had ever seen before. He usually kept his wings in such an impeccable state that the angel couldn’t even believe he was looking at the same set.

That wasn’t even the worst thing. Crowley seemed sick. A mess of bones ambling about, far skinnier than Aziraphale had ever seen him, and that was saying something, considering how he normally looked.

His skin was looking way too waxy for comfort and his eyes were red, cheeks streaked with tears.

Aziraphale didn’t care anymore. _He couldn’t do this, he just couldn’t_. He needed to take care of his demon.

So he went down on his hands and knees and hugged the demon as tightly as he could.

He felt Crowley relax in his arms and even try to give in to the hug before he stiffened completely and started trembling as his wings shied away from the angel’s touch.

Then, with a sharp intake of breath, he drew back, eyes blown wide and red at the rims.

‘No, please! Please just stop! Just make it end. I can’t do this anymore,’ he cried out as he hugged his knees and swayed slightly.

Aziraphale felt his heart drop.

‘Whatever do you mean, my dear?’

‘Stop it. With the “my dears” and “my darlings”. Stop the kisses. Stop everything. I just want it to end. Too bad there is no Holy water around.’

Aziraphale paled instantly, all colour draining from his cheeks.

‘You surely don’t mean that, dearest!’

‘I said stop it, didn’t I, angel?’ Crowley whispered in a broken voice, by now laying down on the ground but still hugging at his knees tightly. ‘You always do this. You always give me hope only to take it away. I can’t. I just can’t anymore. Please just end it already.’

He sobbed some more into the heels of his palms.

‘I really didn’t think there could be something worse than death but this is it and I can’t take it. I just can’t.’

‘I’m not pulling back, Crowley, truly, I’m not.’

‘You say that every time.’

‘Every time? This is the first time I’ve seen you in a week?’

‘A week? Hell needs to adjust its hallucinations. It’s been years.’

‘Years?’

‘Centuries, I don’t know! Please, just leave me alone!’

‘Crowley, I am not a hallucination. I came here to rescue you.’

‘That’s what you always say. Please. Just please, let me be. I can spend the rest of eternity just staying here by myself but please don’t show me my angel anymore. I just…’

‘Darling, please, let me help you. Hold you, at least.’

Crowley flinched at that.

‘I told you, I can’t. Not anymore. You always come in and start talking about loving me and all of that other stuff. Please don’t do that to me anymore.’

Aziraphale thought he tried his best at fighting back tears. His best wasn’t all that good since tears flowed down his cheeks freely as he clutched both of his hands to his chest.

‘I’ll stop if you don’t want that.’

 _Of course Crowley didn’t want that. How could he possibly want that?_ He was a terrible excuse for a friend. And the way he disgraced himself in the last circle of Hell. The way he presumed and imagined that he would get his idea of a “happy ever after” without even considering what Crowley wanted. He felt sick to his stomach. How could he be so despicable. So presumptuous. Crowley was obviously hurting and he had to be there for him as a friend if not anything else.

‘You always say that to convince me to come with you. And then you tell me that there never was such a thing as our own side. That I am vile and wrong and damned and that you despise me.’

‘I never!’ Aziraphale gasped. ‘You cannot possibly think that. I would never do that, Crowley.’

‘But you always do!’ Crowley took the hands away from his face and really looked at the angel. He seemed entirely ruined. Tortured within an inch of his sanity. It was obvious he was still seeing him as a hallucination. His wings were as drawn as far back as possible lest Aziraphale even thought of laying even one finger on them.

‘Crowley, my dearest. My love.’

Another flinch.

‘Did any of the other versions of me leave you a letter?’

‘I…um…no?’

‘I will leave it here for you to read. I will sit by the elevator door and wait for you to do that. I will give you all the space in the world, I promise you that. And if we are to spend the rest of eternity here it will be alright, because I will get to spend it with you.’

‘I…this isn’t what usually happens…’

‘That’s because I am real, darling. I came for you. I passed through all the circles. For you. Always for you,’ Azirapahle inched closer and placed a palm on one of Crowley’s cheeks, stroking it affectionately.

‘And I will give you all the time in the world to deal with this particular bit of information. Or not deal with it. But I won’t leave this place without you. I was created to be a guardian. And I will guard you forever, my dearest. Even if you don’t love me back. That has nothing to do with it. Nothing at all. I will give you all the time you need, that I promise you.’

He pressed the letter into Crowley’s hand and got to his feet to go and stand by the elevator.

Crowley looked at him for a long time with so much hurt in his eyes that Aziraphale wanted to go back on his promise and just hug him until the real end of days.

Then he hugged the letter tightly to his chest and raised his wings over his head.

Aziraphale sat down and waited.

He did that for a long while.

At some point or other Crowley opened the letter and started reading it.

Aziraphale kept his eyes glued to the floor.

_He could do this. He definitely could. He could take the rejection. He could take anything, provided it helped Crowley accept his help and come back Upstairs with him._

Crowley stared at the letter for a longer time than necessary, Aziraphale felt. It wasn’t that long. Just four pages. That shouldn’t take him so much. He knew the demon read in spite of all his protests and he knew it wouldn’t take anyone so long to read that letter.

‘Angel,’ he could hear being whispered after an apparent eternity.

‘Yes, dear?’

This was when he lifted his eyes for the first time since sliding against the wall to look at Crowley.

He looked hopeful.

Tears streaked his cheeks and he was a complete mess otherwise, but he did look hopeful.

  


[full size- Art by Elf on the Shelf](https://www.rainydaypaperback.com/media/files/AO3/flame/crowleybyElf.jpg)

‘Did you…did…you…mean it?’

‘Each and every word, love.’

Crowley fought back another flinch..

‘Couldn’t you…I mean…that is…’

Aziraphale got up and stepped closer to him. Then he knelt in front of him and offered a hand.

‘Is this better?’

He wanted to say so much more but was quickly silenced as Crowley nearly leaped at him and wrapped his arms against the angel’s shoulders murmuring things in his curls all the while. Aziraphale could even swear he felt a small kiss on the crown of his head. All the while his wings gathered around the both of them as a protective cocoon, tentatively stroking Aziraphale’s own.

‘Please don’t tell me we are on opposite sides, angel. It will ruin me. Don’t tell me you don’t like me or that we aren’t even friends. I just couldn’t bear it. Don’t tell me that I go too fast for you. If you do that again I swear I’ll lose it. Hell,’ he yelled at the ceiling. ‘Just end me now. I’m not immune to Holy water. It was just all a hoax! DO YOU ALL HEAR THAT?’

Aziraphale clamped a hand over his mouth.

‘What do you think you are doing?’

Crowley murmured something unintelligible from behind it.

‘Never, and I mean never do that in my presence ever again. Or at all for that matter. Are you trying to get yourself killed?’

Crowley closed his eyes and nodded.

‘Why, dear boy? Is it because of me? I could go away, if you wanted. I never wanted to assume…’ he trailed off as Crowley shook his head vehemently and buried his face in the crook of Aziraphale’s neck.

‘What I mean to say is…’

‘I know this will hurt like a motherfucker, it always does, but I need you to stay. I need to feel you close right now.’

Aziraphale hummed but didn’t add anything to the conversation.

‘I know you are not real. But for five more minutes at least you could be. It’s all I ever wanted, angel. It’s all I hoped for. You. Here with me. All of you. Those beautiful wings. That precious smile. Those eyes that are more important to me than creation itself. I love you, angel. I feel like this is the only relief out of this. How I can tell you I love you over and over again without fearing any of the consequences. At least I get to do this before you say how unworthy I am. I love you so much, angel. At least the real you never gets to hear that.’

‘And I love you, my dear. My darling,’ he started stroking Crowley’s hair and peppering kisses on his forehead.

‘Angel,’ he pushed down a sob and then suddenly his lips were on the angel’s and he kissed him. _Fully. Properly. For the first time._

For Crowley it was maybe the thousandth time.

Aziraphale melted into the kiss and placed his hands so as to cup Crowley’s cheeks.

‘Mhhmm, angel. You never were such a prude in all of my other fantasies,’ Crowley breathed against his lips. ‘I think I love you like this even more.’

If Aziraphale hadn’t already been a bucket of goo, this would have been the moment he became one.

He was absolutely done for when Crowley scrambled into his lap pulling at his jacket and kissing him like it was no tomorrow.

‘I,’ he said as he pressed another kiss to his lips. ‘Have wanted this,’ he continued as he continued down his throat. ‘From the very beginning.’ To prove this, he bit down. ‘This is always the best part. Before you tell me we aren’t even friends and then you leave.’

‘I will never leave you. Never again,’ Aziraphale gasped as his throat was thoroughly bitten.

‘If only you could make this illusion last longer. Only for a little bit,’ Crowley’s voice nearly broke. ‘Just this once, please.’

‘I really don’t know what I can do to convince you I am not an illusion. You said the other ones never left any letters.’

Crowley shifted his gaze and nodded with his eyes firmly fixed on the floor.

‘Maybe because none of your visions know you as well as I know you, my dear.’

There was no reply.

‘What did the letter say?’

‘That you loved me.’

‘It did. What else?’

‘You quoted Shakespeare at me. And Donne. And Milton.’

‘Yes. Yes, I did – would any of the hallucinations do that?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t want this to end, angel. Please make it last longer, this time.’

‘I will stay here for as long as you want, darling.’

He wrapped his arms around Cowley’s middle just as the demon buried his face in Aziraphale’s jacket and then placed his chin atop Crowley’s head.

‘I could talk to you about all the times that I realised how precious you are but never got the courage to tell you.’

Crowley shifted in his arms.

‘Would you like that?’

There was another shift and the barest of nods.

‘Wonderful, darling,’ Aziraphale pressed another kiss on his forehead and began reminiscing.

***

'There was that time in Rome, of course. But I didn't even realise it at the moment. You were so glad to have seen me again. It was such a delight. And then there was Pompeii. Both times.'

Crowley flinched.

'I know. I know. I was horrid. But I did hear you and I understood what you were saying. It just took me a lot of time to process. Troy, too. You were extraordinarily beautiful. The real Troy, I mean. No. Actually both of them. You are always beautiful.'

Crowley lifted his gaze and there was something incredibly sincere there. It was on the point of breaking.

'There was Paris, of course. The time you saved me and the time I...failed to save you.'

'None of that, angel.'

'And the books. Both...I'm sorry, Crowley. I can't...'

Crowley nodded and rested his forehead on his shoulder again.

***

He didn’t know how much time had passed when Crowley ventured to say something again.

It could have been hours. Hell, it could have been days. Timed flowed differently here.

‘None of the others stayed as long,’ Crowley eventually said.

‘That’s because I _AM_ real, love.’

‘They all say that. And I always believe it, like the dumb bastard that I am.’

Aziraphale kissed the top of his head and stroked his back. One of Crowley’s wings draped over his arm, begging to be touched. So Aziraphale did.

‘Do you feel any better?’

‘Mhm.’

‘Do you think we could go now?’

At this Crowley nearly jumped up from his arms again, eyes wild and a pained expression on his face.

‘No, no, angel, please, NO! Please! You promised you’d stay longer. Just for a little while.’

‘I will stay here with you for centuries, my dear boy, but we do have to leave eventually.’

Crowley started crying again.

‘So that’s what this is? Just a more prolonged form of torture? Just leading me on for longer until you do it?’

‘Do what, darling?’

‘Say that there is no Our Side. You always do that when you tempt me to go up with you. We are feet away from the elevator and then you say it. Well, I can’t take it anymore. I will sit here on the ground and never move an inch. That way you stay with me longer.’

And it was then that Lucifer’s words started making sense to him, for the first time.

_“If he ever wants to leave with you.”_

_Fuck._

He felt his heart break for the hundredth time in such a small interval of time. _He had done this to him. He was the one responsible_. All of those angry words that held no meaning and no truth to them had hurt Crowley so much that his own personal hell was the angel walking out on him over and over again.

‘How many times did I do this to you?’

‘I don’t know. Hundreds? Thousands? It’s hard to keep score after a while.’

‘Well, I won’t anymore, of that you can be certain.’

‘It’s always the same, angel. You always do. You always say you don’t and then that is exactly what you do. I don’t hold you responsible in any way. It’s just who you are. You’re an angel. What possible reason could you have for fraternising with demons?’

_Fraternising?_

_Oh no, this apparently went on for so much longer than Aziraphale had imagined._

‘Because you are the kindest person I know. The bravest. The most beautiful. And very near and dear to my heart.’

Crowley looked at him in shock.

‘None of the others ever said that.’

‘Because I am real. You need to get that into your thick skull, one way or the other.’

The demon just stared.

‘Crowley?’

‘Mhm.’

‘Do you trust me?’

‘Always, angel.’

‘Good. Then we are going to walk around the room, never go near the elevator, yes?’

‘I think I can do that, angel.’

‘Well then,’ he said and got up, extending a hand to help Crowley up too.

Crowley looked at it for a long moment before taking a hold of it and getting up himself.

‘That’s nice, my dear. Thank you.’

‘I just got up from the ground, angel. I didn’t do that much.’

‘It means a lot to me anyway. So thank you.’

Crowley nodded and looked down at the floor as if it was the most interesting in the Universe.

‘Crowley?’

‘Yes?’

‘Give me your hand.’

The demon nodded slightly and grabbed Aziraphale’s hand intertwining their fingers.

‘Good. Thank you, dear. Now let’s take a walk. We won’t go anywhere near the elevator, I promise. Can you do that for me?’

Another nod.

‘You are being very brave, my beautiful, darling demon. I do love you, so very very much,’ he said as he placed a chaste kiss against his lips.

‘Let’s just walk for a bit, yes?’

‘I am not going anywhere near that door.’

‘Of course not. We are just going in circles, taking the feel of the room, yes?’

Another nod.

Aziraphale took the first step and then looked at Crowley to see if he was following.

Crowley also took a first tentative step of his own and then looked up to see the angel’s expression.

Aziraphale beamed at him.

_This was good, this was alright._

They started to walk around, no particular direction in mind as the hall was huge and dark and bare of any other objects. It was just them surrounded by a set of tall dark grey walls.

The room never needed to be anything else but an empty wasteland for the particular thoughts that plagued Crowley’s mind.

They walked in silence for a long while before Aziraphale placed his free hand on Crowley’s cheek and lifted his chin to be able to look him in the eye.

‘Crowley?’

‘Yes angel?’

‘Do you think you could trust me again for what I am about to do?’

‘I…always, angel. I told you.’

‘Good.’

He untucked the bow tie from his neck and held it before Crowley for further inspection.

‘Can I put this over your eyes?’

‘I…what?’

Aziraphale just waited in silence for a proper reply.

‘Oh, so you’re one of _those_ hallucinations then,’ Crowley replied, trying to aim for humor and failing spectacularly.

‘I really think there is no need to talk about that right now. We will at some point, but this is not the perfect timing, is it?’

Crowley looked up and blushed.

‘So? Can I put this over your eyes?’

‘Yeah, I mean...I guess,’ he said as he started scratching the back of his neck.

Azirpahale tied the material over Crowley’s eyes in the softest and gentlest possible way and then placed a peck on his cheek.

‘There you go. Should we take another walk now? I promise to guide you every step of the way. I’ll hold your hand and talk to you so you know I’m still here. How does that sound?’

‘I…yes. Whatever you want, angel. Always.’

Aziraphale looked at him with an adoring expression and pulled him into a tight hug.

‘Whatever makes you stay with me for a couple of moments more,’ Crowley whispered in his ear.

They started walking about in circles, with no clear direction in mind _. Well, Crowley had no clear direction as he would follow Aziraphale anywhere and was also not sure where they were going._ Aziraphale had a very clear direction and he started pointing them towards it foot by foot with every passing round, just slow enough not to scare the demon away.

‘You’re doing wonderful, dearest. Thank you for doing this for me,’ he would say every now and again and take a hold of Crowley’s face and kiss him passionately.

It made Crowley splutter a string of unrelated consonants each and every time.

‘You are very brave to do this for me. But then again, I always knew that about you.’

‘I…’

‘You are the centre of my entire universe, my love, and I will never again talk about sides. I will never again refuse you anything,’ Aziraphale said as he eyed the elevator door, mere feet away from where they were and started stepping towards it.

Crowley followed, because he always would.

Once safe inside it, Aziraphale pulled the door closed with a loud screech that made Crowley instantly fidget and draw back his hand.

‘I…what is this?’

Aziraphale pushed the only button that was written in plain English saying Limbo before the demon had any chance of making a run for it.

‘I told you Crowley. I am real. And I am taking you home.’

‘This never happened before!’ Crowley nearly wailed as he took the piece of fabric off and looked at Aziraphale like a deer caught up in the headlights.

Aziraphale stepped an inch closer and Crowley drew back.

‘Why are you doing this to me? None of the others did this. This is infinitely crueller. Well, I suppose they wanted to dial things up a bit, didn’t they? ‘

Aziraphale pressed on and took a hold of one of Crowley’s wrists.

‘I am very much NOT immune to Holy Water!’ Crowley called out at the top of his lungs before Aziraphale pressed both their bodies together, bringing Crowley’s head to stay safely buried into one of his shoulders.

‘Please stop doing that, darling. I couldn’t bear life without you.’

He could hear a sob.

‘What can I do to make you believe me? What did the others never do?’

‘Call me nice?’

‘Well I did that already. Countless times. You are nice. And kind and loving.’

‘I…I mean, I always wanted you to call me that. It’s just one of their doings. They somehow found out about it. Or it's what my mind’s doing. It fucked with itself so many times before...’

‘What else did the others say?’

‘That they loved me. That they wanted us to be together? That we’d maybe share a house together. A bed even. There were a couple of conversations that should not be discussed in polite company.’

‘And we can do all of that if you wanted, my dear. But only what you want and only at your own pace. I would never pressure you into anything that makes you uncomfortable, you have to understand.’

‘None of the others said that.’

‘I should imagine so. Your mind came up with all of those scenarios and you sell yourself so short all the time, darling. Always. Why do you do that? You never once stop to think that you are worthy of this, that you can have this and so, so much more. But that’s not the way I perceive you. So I can say whatever all of those hallucinations can’t. I will take whatever you offer and not a bit more. You waited for me for quite some time. I am sure I can wait for you too. For 6000 years if necessary.’

‘I…angel…I still don’t believe this is real. I’m sorry…I just…’

‘Crowley?’

‘Yes?’

‘Could you do something for me?’

‘Anything.’

‘Could you check if anyone is looking?’

He could do that but he had no idea why he should be doing this in the first place. He still did it anyway. Whether the angel was a hallucination or not, he was still his angel.

‘No one.’

‘Good then. Take my hand.’

An idea slowly started forming in his mind.

‘No, angel, we can’t do that! They’ll know.’

‘You were the one shouting about it a minute ago?’

‘But what if it really _is_ you and you get killed?’

‘Then you will know that I wasn’t lying and that I am not a bloody hallucination!’

‘You never swore in any of the other visions either.’

‘Can you see my point?’ Aziraphale said with a roll of his eyes and presented a hand. It was a very loving and understanding eye roll though.

Crowley looked at the hand. Then he groaned and closed his eyes and then he checked again.

There was no one looking. They were safe for the time being.

Then he took Aziraphale’s hand between both of his own and hung on to dear life.

He felt his essence leave him and try to inhabit the body before him but something was stopping it.

It was Aziraphale’s own essence. Bright whites and cerulean blues coming over to greet him, wrapping all around him.

‘How are you doing this? No other….’

‘I am _me_ , Crowley. This is _all_ me. Your mind could never replicate something like this. It’s Heavenly mandated. You wouldn’t be able to do that. But you remember this. I know you do. You felt this once before, didn’t you? You saw me like this once and recognise it for what it is.’

‘Angel…angel I can’t…I really really can’t. Please let go.’

So Aziraphale did.

Crowley tried to get his breathing in check, although he didn’t necessarily need to breathe in the first place and then lifted a hand that instructed Aziraphale to just leave him be for a moment.

It took several long moments.

When his breathing became even yet again, Crowley whispered –

‘Angel?’

‘Yes?’

‘Is it really you?’

‘Of course it is, you silly silly demon!’

Crowley looked at him for the first time with something like hope in his eyes.

‘And everything you said….’

‘All true, I’m afraid.’

There was another moment that seemed to drag on forever before Crowley pushed him backwards, slamming both of their bodies to one of the elevator’s walls and kissing him passionately. One of his hands was resting in Aziraphale’s soft curls while the other lay splayed over his mid back.

The elevator ride did really take almost forever so there was time enough for their intimate moment. More time than they could possibly want. And they made the most of it.

‘Angel?’

‘Yes darling?’

‘I can’t believe it’s really you.’

‘I will spend the rest of eternity trying to prove it to you, then.’

‘So you were actually considering moving in together?’

‘Still am if that is what you wish?’

‘And sleeping together?’

‘In all the ways that you want.’

‘Ngk.’

‘And…and…’

‘Everything you want to do, we will do. I am never spending another second apart from you.’

‘I…I think I’d like that.’

‘Good. Because I would have been rather disappointed if you didn’t.’

The elevator was slowly drawing to a stop.

‘Darling?’

‘Yes?’

‘I still need you to do one thing for me before we leave this place.’

‘I told you, angel. Anything.’

‘Please never look back?’

‘Why would I….’

‘Just never do that. And then it will be us forever for however long we want.’

‘That’s easy. I’ll just look at you. You could always walk in front of me and there isn’t anything in the world that would stop me from looking at you, my beautiful, lovely angel. What could it be to have me take my eyes off you?’

‘You are being a darling, aren’t you, Crowley,’ Aziraphale smiled brightly and caressed his cheek.

‘Ngk.’

‘And so very articulate, as always.’

‘Now, don’t be a cheeky fucker!’

‘Well, now you know for certain that it is me. What was it you called me that one time? Bastard, I believe.’

Crowley chuckled and went in for another kiss, even if it was short lived.

Aziraphale tried his hardest to end it as a sharp ping could be heard and then extended a hand.

‘Shall we? And please, for the love of everything that is holy, or damned, don’t look back.’

‘I won’t angel. I promise. You know I would never lie to you.’

‘I know, dearest. Alright then, let’s face the music.’

They stepped out of the elevator.

 _They could do this_ , Aziraphale was certain they could.

So he squeezed Crowley’s hand and faced whatever lay ahead, head on.


	11. Redemption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bois finally get out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: self-esteem issues, toxic environment, some gore on the walls, rude hand gestures
> 
> I am genuinely mortified by the fact that I missed two posting dates like that.  
> This was super difficult to write and I am still not completely pleased with it but it was either this or nothing, so here goes.  
> Hope you don't hold it against me all that much...

_Open your mind to what I shall disclose,_

_And hold it fast within you; he who hears,_

_But does not hold what he has heard, learns nothing._

Limbo was empty, safe for a few demons that loitered around and gossiped in random looking places all along the corridors since, _well_ , the watercooler was broken.

They lifted their eyes and looked at the two of them with a temporary look of confusion before they realised who the two man-shaped entities passing them by actually were.

They started whispering among themselves, but they did leave them be. Not because of their nice natures all around, of course. It was because they had a general decree instilled by Lucifer himself that forbade them to lay a finger on the two of them.

Crowley flinched at each and every whisper, feeling on a molecular level that all of their words were directed at him personally. They were all talking about what an utter disgrace he was and probably wondering out loud what would an angel even see in such a broken creature as himself.

He started imagining proper words at some point. Phrases, whispered in his ear. 

_‘He doesn’t want you!’_

_‘He will leave you.’_

_‘How can you possibly think that you can deserve him?’_

He closed his eyes and shook his head to make the thoughts go away.

He tried remembering the letter instead.

That grounded him.

‘My dear, my darling,’ Aziraphale stopped dead in his tracks and placed his hands ever so gently on his shoulders. An assurance that he was still there but without any strength behind it. As if he was leaving Crowley’s options open. A featherlight touch.

‘Yes angel.’

‘Would the blindfold help?’

‘I don’t think that’s how it works, angel. That would just be cheating the system.’

‘Well, this _is_ Hell.’

Crowley chanced a little smile at that. Although that did get some little wheels turning, trying to think how to bypass the whole system without actually doing so. Or at least, visibly doing so.

‘Bastard.’

‘ _Your_ bastard,’ Aziraphale pondered something and the light touch turned into a tight hug instead.

‘Tell me what the letter said, darling.’

‘Um…many things.’

‘Tell me. I think it will make you feel better.’

_‘You are unworthy of him. This is just a hoax.’_

_‘He will leave you the second you step out of here. And then what will you do? Roam the Earth by yourself for the rest of Eternity?’_

_‘See yourself for who you are, Crowley, no angel could ever love someone like you.’_

Crowley closed his eyes and buried his face in Aziraphale’s neck.

He drew in a deep breath and then another one. Then he started quoting the letter. He mumbled more than half of the words and stopped every so often and stammered quite a lot. But he did quote it.

_‘My dearest demon, I hope you can find it within yourself to be able to forgive the absolutely despicable way I have acted towards you for millennia. The way I treated you is something I can never forgive myself for and something that I will have to live with for the rest of my long life. But I hope you find it in your heart to do that. Or at least try to understand. Not that it excuses my abysmal behavior. Maybe not now. Maybe not ever. But that heart of yours is so big and so loving and so full of compassion that I really hope you could do that.’_

Aziraphale took a moment to comprehend the enormity of what had just happened. By the time he took it all in, his eyes were glazed over.

_That’s why it took Crowley so long to read the letter._

He didn’t read it, he _memorised_ it.

Whenever he thought he couldn’t love Crowley more than he already did, the demon went and did stuff like this.

His heart could have exploded then and there.

‘You are so precious, darling.’

‘Angel?’

‘Yes, that’s it, just follow me. I promise we’ll go slowly. Nice and steady. Not too fast. Never too fast.’

Crowley flinched visibly at that and started to look desperately around only for Aziraphale to cup his cheeks and place their foreheads together.

‘Please, don’t look back. I never meant it like that. Even then, I didn’t mean it, not really. Just small steps, yes?’

Crowley nodded.

They advanced in silence for another couple of minutes on one of the damp and dim lit corridors, trying to make their way through the maze of hallways that gave way to the central lobby.

_‘Look at you? How can you even begin to believe that he would want you.’_

_‘Do you mean to damn him forever, is that what you are doing?’_

Crowley shook his head and shied away from Aziraphale’s warm touch, trying to place the heels of his palms over his ears.

Aziraphale instantly paled.

‘No, darling, darling please look at me.’

Crowley was shivering all over, eyes firmly shut but he did give an imperceptible nod and tried his best to force his eyes open to meet Aziraphale’s loving gaze.

‘I wouldn't presume to imagine what you are going through. I believe it’s very painful. But remember that I am here, by your side. Always and forever from now on if you’ll have me.’

Crowley’s look of utter shock could not be mistaken for anything else.

‘If I...if I’ll have you…?’

‘Of course, dearest. This whole thing is by no means intended to bind you to me against your will once we are safely back home. It never was. I would never presume such a thing. You can change your mind at any moment and I will never fault you for it. But please, please, let’s just try to get out of here first. Do you think you can do that for me?’

Crowley continued to stare in complete disbelief at the angel. _What had he done to deserve this? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. This was a trick, it had to be._

He tried looking wildly around to see any proof of that before he committed to it completely. His heart would definitely break but better now than later.

‘Crowley!’ Aziraphale gripped his shoulders, digging his fingers in this time with newfound urgency. ‘Focus. Please focus, for me. Yes?’

A nod and then a pause.

‘Can you remember what else the letter said?’

‘You quoted Shakespeare at me, angel.’

‘Thought it was only right to return the favour,’ he smiled beatifically at him and adjusted one of the loose strands of hair behind the demon’s ear. ‘Would you recite it to me, dearest?’

‘ _Not from the stars do I my judgment pluck,_

 _And yet methinks I have astronomy_ -’

‘Yes, darling, just like that.’

Crowley tied to swallow but he felt like there was something lodged in his throat.

‘ _But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive,_

_And, constant stars, in them I read such art_

_As truth and beauty shall together thrive_.’

‘Aziraphale, I -’

‘No one said anything about me not reciting it to you, now did they? Now where were we?’

Crowley tried to shake his head but even he couldn’t believe his weak protests.

‘I _f from thyself to store thou wouldst convert:_

_Or else of thee this I prognosticate,_

_Thy end is truth's and beauty's doom and date._

_Are grac'd thereby; And to make blinde men see,_

_What things gods are, I say they'are like to thee_.’

‘Angel....’

‘I’ll keep going, if you don’t want to go on. I always thought of you when I read this particular poem. Let me recite it to you, yes?’

They were pretty close to the main lobby, judging by the hubbub that could be properly heard now as more than just a buzz in the background. Somehow in between the words of reassurance and the poems they had managed to cover quite an impressive amount of distance.

‘What do you m-’

Aziraphale shushed him and started reciting yet again.

‘ _Here lovers sweare in their Idolatrie,_

_That I am such; but Griefe discolors me._

_And yet I grieve the lesse, least Griefe remove_

_My beauty, and make me'unworthy of thy love_.’

Crowley closed his eyes yet again and started shaking his head vehemently.

‘It does, it absolutely does, Crowley. I don’t know what I could possibly do to gain your trust, or to deserve your love. Not ever.’

The demon kept his eyes closed but followed in the angel’s footsteps, by now Aziraphale walking with his back completely turned to the corridor and grasping Crowley’s hands, walking backwards.

‘ _My two lips, eyes, thighs, differ from thy two,_

_But so, as thine from one another doe;_

_And, oh, no more; the likenesse being such,_

_Why should they not alike in all parts touch?_

_Hand to strange hand, lippe to lippe none denies;_

_Why should they brest to brest, or thighs to thighs?_

_Likenesse begets such strange selfe flatterie,_

_That touching my selfe, all seemes done to thee_.’

Crowley’s breath hitched.

‘ _O cure this loving madnesse, and restore_

_Me to mee; thee, my halfe, my all, my more._

_So may thy cheekes red outweare scarlet dye,_

_And their white, whitenesse of the Galaxy,_

_So may thy mighty, amazing beauty move_

_Envy'in all women, and in all men, love,_

_And so be change, and sicknesse, farre from thee,_

_As thou by comming neere, keep'st them from me_.’

‘I mean each and every word. It’s as if Donne’s looked into my very soul and came up with those words.’

This was marked by another kiss and Aziraphale squeezed Crowley’s hands, reassuringly.

‘You are doing so well, my darling. You are splendid.’

‘I’m just walking, angel. It’s not like I’m inventing the cure for cancer or anything,’ he snapped at him.

_‘See, this is precisely what I’m talking about,’_ Crowley could hear his own voice whisper at the back of his neck.

_‘You always lash out at him. Don’t you think he will one day get sick and tired of that? Of you as well?’_

The lobby opened up before them, tall and wide and frankly a lot more mucky than he remembered it which was certainly something.

There were several low grade demons that did a piss poor job of mopping whatever was coating the walls. They were throwing hateful looks at the two of them. Hateful looks were after all in their inventory of approved looks but these felt somewhat more personal. Crowley wondered what that was.

‘That’s it,’ he heard Aziraphale murmur near his temple. ‘We’re nearly there.’

True enough, they could spot the escalator on the other side of the hall and no demon did anything to stay in their way. Most of them were huddled near the dirty walls and looking at them as if they were expecting a mighty show.

_Were they?_

_They were._

They definitely were. This was Hell and nothing was ever easy in Hell.

He tried to tell Aziraphale that but his words died in his throat as soon as he heard something from behind them.

It was a very slow clap that started to sound louder and louder as it grew nearer.

‘Exquisite job, Aziraphale. Marvellous. Would have not believed it myself were I not to witness it.’

Aziraphale immediately became as white as a sheet, all of the colour draining from his cheeks.

_Had Lucifer heard Crowley’s remarks about Holy Water? Oh Good Lord_.

Crowley completely stilled in his arms and the angel’s first thought was to unsheathe his sword while his other hand wrapped possessively around Crowley’s middle.

‘I meant what I said, darling. It was beautifully done. A work of genius. Except the one teensy little hiccup.’

Crowley had started trembling by this point.

‘And that is?’ Aziraphale tried his best to keep his voice from cracking. His grip on Crowley’s waist tightened.

‘Well, you see, you tricked him in coming with you, did you not?’

‘I...’

‘He was supposed to come by his own free will. So, what is that if not treachery?’

‘I...’

Crowley was looking at him with wide and open eyes searching his desperately. But he could not look him in the eye right now for fear of losing it completely, so he lowered his eyes while his lip started to wobble.

_He had gone and done it. Hadn’t he?_

He had cursed the both of them to remain in Hell indefinitely. How had he been so stupid?

Crowley tried to caress his cheeks and to draw his gaze up but the angel was too far gone by now to actually perceive anything going around him. He felt like crawling under a rock and dying there but he needed to be strong for the two of them. He recognised the immensity of what Aziraphale had been through and if it was his time to pull his weight then so be it. Even if he would have to deliver his best performance so far.

‘No.’ Crowley declared loudly, silencing the hubbub that had started around the Lobby.

‘Beg pardon, darling?’

‘That last circle. That was for me. It was not for him.’

‘So it was.’

‘And we don’t have any rules set in place down here.’ 

A lot of lower demons shrugged and nodded at each other.

‘And when we do, it’s the rules we come up with ourselves. Right?’

He did not look back because he had promised Aziraphale. He was instead staring at the angel’s face hoping for any reaction other than his near mental breakdown.

But he could still feel Lucifer smirking at him as if he was the only one to get the joke. He knew him well enough to get it by now.

‘Loopholes.’

‘Very good, darling! Excellent!’ Lucifer clapped his hands together once more. ‘I can’t believe darling Beelzie wanted to kill you off in such an unimaginative manner, tsk tsk. You really are a smart one, aren’t you?’

Aziraphale lifted his eyes tentatively at that looking at Crowley with something between confusion and awe.

He got a kiss on his forehead for all of his efforts.

‘He did not commit treachery. Not to me. Because I never believed him to be capable of it. And because he did it to save me, not damn me.’

‘Impressive,’ he could hear Lucifer exclaim loudly and in a very satisfied tone.

He just couldn’t be bothered. He stroked Aziraphale’s cheeks some more.

‘Our side, angel. Yes?’

‘Always, my dear.’

‘And now we’ll be going, I think,’ Crowley grinned with a glint of determination in his eye that only Aziraphale spotted.

All of the other demons looking their way - that is to say the ones that were standing in between them and the escalator - fought back a shiver. Crowley knew how to be absolutely terrifying when push came to shove.

Aziraphale looked deep into his eyes and gave him the curtest of nods.

‘Of course you will,’ Lucifer said.

‘Glad to hear it. So. As a token of good will you will shake Aziraphale’s hand and seal this deal, right, " _darling_ "?’ Crowley offered in a sing-song voice and Aziraphale feared that he overdid it by a mile.

‘Oh, feisty. I am going to miss that. But a deal is a deal and I will not have anyone say hurtful things about me like me going back on my word like that.’

Crowley wrapped a hand around Aziraphale’s middle, drew back his wings and closed his eyes in a mock-nod.

Lucifer drew nearer, Crowley could feel it as he felt all of the hairs on the nape of his neck stand to attention but he did his best to keep his arms around the angel and his eyes glued to his. There should be no sign of weakness. Not if they planned of ever escaping this.

He noticed Aziraphale extend a hand and that hand moving up and down and then his shoulders were gently squeezed and he was guided forwards. 

He had no idea how Aziraphale was doing this, walking backwards like that in unknown territory but he suspected those factory-settings myriad eyes were at least a part of it.

And then they were on the escalator and rising up towards safety but there was something inside him, in his very soul that had always wanted to rebel against the establishment and that had always wanted to probe in places that he probably shouldn’t.

He was well aware of Orpheus and Eurydice. Lucifer had waxed poetic about it when it first came out and he knew how much he enjoyed the sheer both drama and melodrama of it.

But Aziraphale had said not to look back. He had never mentioned not to turn back.

Hell was built on loopholes. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the opportunity that presented itself.

And he _really_ wanted to get out with a bang.

So he pressed a quick kiss on the corner of the angel’s mouth, closed his eyes, smiled to himself and turned on his heels trying his best and most dramatic pirouette while also attempting a bow.

_Well, like he always said, if you had to go, then go with style!_

So drew himself up to full height, eyes still closed and a glint on one of his obviously exposed fangs (just because he expected it to be there for dramatic effect) and flipped everyone off with both hands.

He was probably going to have a laugh about this after the bile in his mouth cleared and he would probably even be able to joke about it with the angel after the couple of centuries that Aziraphale would berate him for, but it needed to be done.

‘Ssssssso long sssssssuckerssssss!’


	12. Absolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We finally get some soft husbands being soft together as they so justly deserve after this whole ordeal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am monumentally sorry for skipping posting dates like that and I have no other excuse than the one that inspiration didn't strike. But we are here now and this angst fest finally gets a happy ending.
> 
> I'd like to thank my glorious beta, [HolRose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolRose/pseuds/HolRose) for putting up with me throughout all of this and for coming up with several of the main plot points and ways in which I painted all the circles. I am forever indebted to you, darling!
> 
> Artist note: There's also some art pieces that get slotted into previous chapters, so page through and see stuff that went up after the chapter did!

_These are the radiancies of the perfected vision that sees the good_

_And step by step moves nearer what it sees._

As soon as they reached the main building’s lobby Crowley’s knees gave in and he fell on his hands and knees on the floor, gasping for air and resting his forehead on the cold ceramic tiles.

Aziraphale already had a monologue prepared. It was not a long one since he had started preparing it the moment he could breathe again after that monumentally stupid move that Crowley pulled.

It had taken him a couple of moments to realise he didn’t need to breathe or that the fact that his heart nearly stopping in his chest wasn’t such a big deal. But when he did, he prepared the mother of all chastising speeches known to man. Or demon, in this case.

But upon seeing Crowley in such a state he instantly dropped to his knees next to him, placing a careful arm around his shoulders and rubbing one of his arms, reassuringly.

Crowley started coughing and, had he eaten anything for the last fortnight, he might have thrown up right then and there. 

It was not a good look on him. Not that whatever had happened in Hell had been and had Aziraphale not literally travelled through all the circles of hell to get his demon back, he would have snapped the both of them directly in the middle of the bookshop without a second thought.

However, he was drained, both physically and emotionally and found out that his miracle tally wasn’t what it used to be.

So he gingerly placed a hand around Crowley’s waist while guiding the demon to place one of his own arms around his shoulders and more carried than helped him get outside the building.

He hailed a cab and instructed the driver to drive them to Soho as fast as possible.

He even used a minor miracle to make sure that the usual London traffic wasn’t as bad as usual. He at least had enough energy for both this and another miracle that ensured that no one would mind the sword, or even notice it. These were not a huge thing on the big scale of things. Nothing near him miracling the both of them inside the bookshop.

It still took the driver over twenty minutes because, miracle or not, this was London and any trip from City to Soho was bound to amount to half an hour or so.

Crowley was shivering slightly next to him, eyes closed and jaw set so tight it might have crushed rock.

‘Darling, come here. Just rest. There’s a while to go yet.’

Crowley didn’t grumble or make any complaints as he rested his head in the crook of Aziraphale’s shoulder while the angel wrapped both arms around him and pressed a gentle kiss on Crowley’s temple.

He spent most of the ride home looking out the window while Crowley dozed off, head still perched on his shoulder.

He could tell that the demon was sound asleep by how his breath became even and his shivering subsided.

Both much earlier and much later than he wanted to, they arrived in front of the bookshop and Aziraphale miracled a hefty sum for the driver and tried waking Crowley up in the most delicate way possible.

The demon was apparently too exhausted to do anything else but go with the flow and follow Aziraphale out of the taxi and into the bookshop proper and then further upstairs into uncharted territory. 

He didn’t even realise what was happening until it was already unfurling, Aziraphale ridding him of his skin-tight waistcoat and working on the buttons of his shirt in a room that appeared to be… a bathroom, by the looks of it.

He could hear water running in the background and only stopped for a moment to think about the irony of Aziraphale having a bathroom inside his flat before his thoughts ventured to more pleasant things like Aziraphale’s hands on him, warm and comforting and a very clear proof that he was there, they both were, every touch grounding him and making him feel at ease.

Aziraphale made do with the two clothing items, folding them up reverently and placing them on the sink countertop before starting to undo his trousers and tugging at them until they were off completely. He had somehow managed to toe his boots off somewhere in the process and now Aziraphale was ridding him of his socks before kneeling in front of him completely and hook his fingers around the waistband of his boxers.

Apparently the end goal was for him to get naked. He had no idea why that was but he trusted the angel, whatever was to happen next so he nodded ever so slightly and then those were off as well.

And then he was guided towards what appeared to be a massive claw-foot tub that was filled with water and a couple of essential oils.

He smelled lavender and frankincense and something else he couldn’t quite place his finger on but it was so monumentally Aziraphale that he let the smell envelop him completely.

He realised that he should probably feel mortified for being completely naked in front of the angel but he just couldn’t convince his brain to acquiesce anything other than the gentle care that was put into all of the angel’s gestures, all soft touches to his elbow and the small of his back as he was guided towards the bath and then he was inside and he realised that the warm water did wonders for his aching muscles.

Aziraphale knelt next to the bathtub and started rubbing at the hellish grime off his neck and shoulders with a wet washcloth and careful soft touches.

He let his head drop back to the side of the tub and his eyes close as he hummed happily under the angel’s ministrations.

He had, time and time again imagined quite a large number of scenarios where the angel would disrobe him and put his hands on him. But they were never so tame, or so reverent. It seemed like the angel was almost praising him, which was ridiculous altogether.

At some point he got up going to clean the washcloth in the sink and Crowley instantly started shivering yet again, already feeling the loss of the angelic touch.

‘Angel, please stay.’

‘Of course, my dear. Just let me...’

‘Just stay...please?’

‘Yes. Obviously.’

‘Can you come inside the tub with me?’

‘Darling, I really think we should discuss stuff like this beforehand.’

‘I… angel…. It’s not like that. I don’t want that. I mean… I do. I do. But this is something else altogether. I just want to feel you. Just want to have you next to me.’

‘Of course, dearest one. We can do that,’ Aziraphale said and started unbuttoning his shirt and getting rid of his bowtie.

He was out of his clothes more easily than anyone would have guessed, judging by the sheer number of layers.

Crowley averted his gaze, wanting to give the angel all of the privacy he needed. It almost felt sinful to look at him undress and even if Crowley knew that sinful was what he was by default he just couldn’t do it. It felt like something sacred. Like something that they should talk about for a long while beforehand and decide on boundaries and the like. 

Sure, Aziraphale had mentioned in passing that THAT was something that could be on the table. But he was too exhausted to even think about the enormity of something like that now. Both physically and mentally, having a hard time wrapping his mind around the fact that the angel could ever want that with him.

And then Aziraphale stepped inside the tub only for Crowley to extend his hands at him and then have him gently guided to rest against his bony chest, long arms wrapped around him like he would never let go.

Were this any other time he would be blushing furiously at the touch of skin on skin, the closeness, the softness of the angel and how he carded his fingers through Crowley’s damp hair. Were it any other time he would be kissing him passionately, or biting his neck or digging his fingernails into those plush hips of his, or even, who knew, gather up all of the courage he could muster and do something more.

But since it was not, he felt perfectly content to gently stroke Aziraphale’s soft tufts of hair and gently kiss his temple as he closed his eyes and let himself inhale the angel’s scent. For now, this was absolute perfection. It was utter bliss.

Or, maybe not, apparently, as Aziraphale lifted his head from his shoulder and stroked his cheek with the back of his fingers.

‘Darling, could you bring out your wings for me?’

He had no idea how it all came so natural to him now. He had always showered Crowley in a long string of “my dear” and “dear boy” but now the endearments just escaped his mouth without any prompting from his brain and everything seemed so natural, so...right.

‘My wings?’

‘They are ever so beautiful and well...down there they looked like they needed someone to take care of them.’

‘Take...care...’

Aziraphale just smiled warmly at him as his fingers stroked his cheek some more.

‘Angel...I...well...you don’t need to do that.’

‘But I want to. If you do as well, that is.’

Crowley just nodded in response and concentrated for a bit materialising his wings on this plane of existence.

In the bright light of his bathroom Aziraphale could see that the damage was even worse than what he first saw in the grimy halls of Hell.

‘Can I touch them?’ he nearly stammered, while not being able to look Crowley in the eye.

Despite them being naked in a bathtub together, touching one’s wings was the most intimate thing he could ever think about and he was still feeling very bashful about the whole thing.

Apparently so was Crowley since he lifted his eyes to look at the ceiling before nodding, ever so slightly.

Aziraphale brushed his fingers over some of the primaries reverently and this enticed a low hum from the demon.

‘Is this alright? Does it hurt?’

‘Of course it’s alright, angel,’ Crowley whispered, eyes closed. ‘Whatever you wish to do to me. Whenever. Everything is alright.’

Aziraphale had a hard time believing that Crowley would be so easy going about his confession were he to look at him instead of closing his eyes, but he let that be for the moment.

So instead he miracled a soft brush into existence and started taking care of the barbs and disarrayed feathers as Crowley relaxed against the porcelain of the tub, eyes still closed and humming ever so slightly.

At some point Aziraphale could swear that he fell asleep but he continued taking care of each and every feather that was out of place or damaged or burned. He did this with his bare hands without using any miracles because attracting attention from Upstairs now was not something he wished to do very much.

It might have taken hours. He had no idea by this point. Not that it much mattered. The water in the bathtub knew better than to grow cold and he could not get enough of carding his fingers in between Crowley’s ebony feathers that were as soft as silk. He probably stayed there long after the demon’s wings had been taken care of, still brushing his fingers over them while he let his gaze roam over Crowley’s peaceful face as he slept and how his chest rose and fell as he breathed evenly in his slumber.

He did risk a small miracle to insure only the best of dreams for his… adversary… friend… lover?

When he realised that he could not prolong this any longer he bowed down and kissed one of Crowley’s perfectly sharp cheekbones only to have the demon chase after the kiss, moving his whole head ever so slightly upwards.

Alright, he would have none of that.

He got out from the tub and wrapped a plush bathrobe around himself before he gathered Crowley up in his arms and walked them both towards the bedroom, depositing his lithe frame on the bed and wrapping him in all of the blankets he could find. Some towels too, since he didn’t want the demon to freeze to death.

And then he tried to leave the room and make tea.

As if on cue, Crowley extended an arm in his general direction, a frown replacing his perfectly at ease expression from mere moments ago.

‘Angel...’ he all but whispered.

‘Oh, my dear,’ Aziraphale sighed with the most besotted look he could muster.

He didn’t need to be told what was expected of him. So he lifted the covers and lay down in bed next to Crowley. It took the demon all of two seconds before wrapping his hands around Aziraphale’s middle and pressing his face close to his chest.

Aziraphale realised that nothing would be able to make him move from the bed right now. Not tea, or sushi or even re-reading first editions.

This was absolute perfection and he would be sitting here, back pressed to the headboard of the bed with the love of his life sleeping on his chest.

At some point he brought his wings out and wrapped them around the both of them, deciding then and there that he would act like a guardian angel towards Crowley until he woke up. Even afterwards, if Crowley so desired.

It took him a week to do that, the angel never leaving his side.

When he finally began to stir he had a hard time getting up because there was a weight over him that he didn’t know about.

He opened his eyes only to be met with the shining bright white of angelic feathers draped over him and he panicked, if only for a little bit, before drawing in a deep breath and realising that he was sprawled over Aziraphale with the angel’s arms wrapped around him and raising his head to look at him.

‘Good morning, my dear. Or, evening, I should say.’

There was a chuckle in that reply and Crowley could feel it bubble in Aziraphale’s chest as he hadn’t moved his head yet.

‘We should probably talk. Properly talk, that is.’

‘We should.’

Crowley raised his head and looked directly into the angel’s eyes.

And then they Talked.

***

There was a Garden. Full of trees in bloom and lovely flowers. So green you’d think that God Herself had made it and placed every blossom in its place Herself. It would have been the wonderment of anyone who would have seen it were it not that it was only meant for two beings’ eyes and two beings’ eyes only. It looked like peace and happiness and eternal Paradise.

In that regard it was quite similar to another Garden, right there, well, then, at the very beginning.

So no, this time around, all of the lovely greenery hadn’t been carefully laid there by the hand of God, not even by the hand of angels, as the particular angel (partly) in charge for it didn’t have a green thumb, at all.

It was instead the pride and joy of a certain demon who spent most of his time taking care of it (i.e. 10% of the time actually taking care and the rest of the time yelling his heart out at them, berating the plants into shape.)

It was peaceful mostly (save for all the yelling).

Wisteria bloomed everywhere and the green hedges were trimmed to absolute perfection.

Neither Heaven nor Hell had given any sign of further contact and that was always good news for the couple occupying the little nook where they could fit a couch in between all of the bookshelves. Some things never changed, that was for certain.

Maybe a year had passed, maybe more.

Aziraphale was reading one of his first editions of Wilde despite Crowley’s grumbles about it and gently stroking Crowley’s hair.

Crowley, for his part, was spread on the couch, occupying most of it together with Aziraphale’s lap, arms and legs spread at any odd angle.

If he were a cat he would have purred. He was very close to it, judging by the satisfied and slightly smug expression he had and the small smile that made him look as carefree as the angel had ever seen him be, even in his sleep.

Aziraphale put the book down and started looking at the demon instead with a warm smile of his own.

It took some time but eventually Crowley started stirring and mumbling.

‘You’re staring, angel.’

‘Ah, excuse me, dearest. Didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.’

‘Mmmyer not. Why are you staring though?’

‘Can’t figure out what I did to get so lucky as to get to have this. With you.’

Crowley snorted and then fixed his eyes on the angel’s.

‘Are you kidding me? You literally went to hell and back to get me. If that doesn’t scream “I did more than anyone else did on this blasted Earth maybe like ever”, then I don’t know what does.’

Aziraphale bent down and kissed his forehead.

‘You’re right dear, it’s just that sometimes I can’t believe how lucky I am.’

‘Myeah, to get out of that place. Huge amounts of luck.’

‘It wasn’t luck, Crowley.’

‘What was it, then?’

‘It was love.’

Crowley blushed visibly and hid his face in the fabric of Aziraphale’s waistcoat.

‘You aren’t playing fair right now.’

‘Who said I ever was?’

‘Bastard.’

‘Your bastard, dearest.’

‘Damn right and don’t you forget it.’

‘How could I?’

‘Mmm, I’d better go and make dinner then, right?’

‘I’d very much like to stay and cuddle here with you for the rest of eternity but I do feel a little peckish.’

‘I don’t cuddle. Demons don’t cuddle.’

‘Of course you don’t.’

‘Shut it. You’re a menace is what you are.’

‘And you love every minute of it.’

‘That I do,’ Crowley said as he got up and placed a loving kiss on Aziraphale’s temple.

‘Would pasta do?’

‘Whatever you wish for, darling.’

‘Says the only one of us who eats in this household.’

‘Now don’t be petty. You always have a taste as well.'

‘Pasta it is then.’

Crowley sauntered over to the kitchen and started to make dinner.

Aziraphale just hummed to himself and closed his eyes listening to the demon pottering about and feeling as content as he could be.

This was it. This was how it was going to be from now on. They were together, they were safe.

So there was a garden, with luscious flowers and hanging vines, a little pond and the customary apple tree. It had been a much-debated issue. In that garden there was a small cottage with a thatched roof and wooden beams, a large solarium and more books than one could even begin to imagine.

And in that cottage two immortal beings carried on as if they hadn’t helped avert the Apocalypse or ventured to Hell and back again only to emerge unscathed.

At some point there were ducks - one of them was quite vehement about it. And maybe later on, even a cat, the other one tried to butt in as well. The cat would, of course, pester the ducks but one of them believed in the inherent good in all of God’s creatures, having never met cats in his life, and the other one just wanted to see how the whole thing would turn out. No one could fault him for wanting a little excitement.

And life went on and it was good.

  
  
[Full size](https://www.rainydaypaperback.com/media/files/AO3/flame/garden.png)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for bearing with me through all the angst and I really hoped you enjoyed this mess.
> 
> It has been immense fun working on this with [Fenris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fenrislorsrai/pseuds/fenrislorsrai) and I am humbled by all of the amazing art.
> 
> I would also like to point out that the DIWS server is the best place ever and to thank all of the mods for making this mini-bang possible and for all of their hard work in organising the whole thing. 
> 
> And of course, as always, comments and kudos soothe my cold dead heart :D


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